


The World Itself

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [53]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Explosions, F/M, Female Character of Color, Hurt/Comfort, Male Character of Color, Male Friendship, Mission Fic, Older Woman/Younger Man, Quantum Organisation, Romance, Spies & Secret Agents, Terrorists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Post-Skyfall fic: Following the sudden death of the new M, Gareth Mallory, the recently retired former M, Olivia Mansfield, comes out of retirement to head the hunt for Mallory's killers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolfsbride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/gifts), [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/gifts).



> I saw the official announcement that Ralph Fiennes would be returning to the Bond 'verse as Gareth Mallory, and suggested this plot twist.  
> Dedicated to Wolfsbride and Tayryn - my fellow Bond/M shippers, Denchnuts, and cheer-leaders.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own this.

_For where thou art, there is the world itself,_  
 _With every several pleasure in the world,_  
 _and where thou art not, desolation._ – Henry VI, Part II, Act III, Scene 2 

Day One

Gareth Mallory, the new head of the Secret Intelligence Service, was pissed off: he had a busy day of meetings scheduled, including a meeting with the new head of the Joint Intelligence Service, who had replaced him on his move to SIS, and he was going to be late because his car hadn't started, and he'd ended up having to take a taxi to work. Unfortunately the time spent by his driver in establishing that he couldn't get the car working, then waiting for a taxi to come and collect him, meant that he was now caught up in the rush hour, and would very likely be late for work. He pulled out his mobile phone intending to ring his personal assistant, Eve Moneypenny, to let her know, but the call went unmade, and within moments it turned out that Gareth Mallory was in fact the late head of SIS.

007-007-007

"What happened? Do we know yet?" 

Bill Tanner, SIS' Chief of Staff, and M's second in command, shook his head at his friend's question. "Not precisely, James, no. They're still trying to put it together, work out the exact chain of events."

James Bond glowered down at the monitor on which he'd just watched the news coverage of the terrorist incident that had seen his new boss blown into far too many pieces just two hours ago. "Do we think Mallory was deliberately targeted?"

Tanner shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't know that either – it's simply too early to tell. And we can't get involved, of course. We're hoping someone from Thames House will let us know ASAP."

Bond snorted: Thames House was home to the Secret Service, colloquially known as MI5, and supposedly their sister service, but rivalry between the two organisations was often intense, and it wasn't unheard of for the two to try scoring points off each other.

"Who's going to take charge of SIS now? You?"

Tanner nodded, tight-lipped. "But only temporarily." He kept his eyes on his desk, which caused Bond's antennae to twitch. 

"Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me, Bill?"

The other man shifted, looking uncomfortable. "The PM asked me to ring Olivia," he said, then flinched as Bond swore violently.

"For God's sakes, Bill! Hasn't she done enough already? She sacrificed almost everything. Silva damn near killed her!" He stormed to the other end of the office and banged his fists repeatedly against the blast-proof window.

Tanner looked stricken when Bond finally turned around, and the agent felt a bit guilty for his outburst. "Sorry, Bill. I know it's not your fault." He shook his head. "I suppose she's coming back?"

"You know Olivia, James," Tanner said softly. "Even after six months out of harness, she still believes in doing her duty."

Bond sighed heavily. "Yes, I know Olivia, only too well." He rubbed a hand over his face. "When does she arrive?"

Tanner checked his watch. "She'll arrive at RAF Northolt around eight o'clock tonight. Then she'll be flown here in a helicopter. The PM suggested, and Olivia and I both agreed, that we should keep her presence here under wraps. It'll be strictly need-to-know."

Bond nodded, acknowledging the sense of that. Tanner's phone rang, so the agent wandered back towards the window to consider the news. Olivia Mansfield, former M, had almost died as a result of the late Raoul Silva's attack on Bond's childhood home, Skyfall. She had decided in the immediate aftermath, that enough was enough, and she was going to retire, having ensured that Silva had paid the ultimate price for his actions. Bond had wanted to beg her to remain, but he had kept his mouth shut, feeling he had no right to say anything on the subject. Instead, he, Kincade, and later Tanner, had contrived to let everyone else think she had died as a result of the wounds she'd sustained during the fire fight in and around Skyfall. 

Tanner had eventually suggested that they let Mallory and the PM know, in order to give Olivia official papers so that she could retire anonymously to the Caribbean. She'd flown out from Scotland once she'd recovered enough from her injuries, leaving Bond the unenviable task of clearing her flat, sending some things on to her, while the rest was donated to charity. This would be her first return to London since she'd 'died', and only the second time he'd seen her since she'd left Britain; he'd seen her three months ago while on a mission in Jamaica, when they'd managed to have a quiet, if rather nostalgic, dinner together.

He had mixed feelings about Olivia's return: he'd be delighted to see her and work with her again, of course, but he'd thought they'd made their final goodbyes at that dinner in Jamaica, and he really hadn't expected to see her again. Their road trip to Skyfall, and the ensuing fight for their lives against Silva and his men, had crystallised his feelings for her, and hiding from her his realisation of just how he felt about her when she was recovering from her injuries had been the hardest task he'd ever had to complete. He'd felt certain, without ever actually broaching the subject, that there was no way she would ever regard him as anything other than a friend, at best, or, very possibly, a surrogate son, while his feelings for her were far from filial.

He heard Tanner end his call, so he turned around and walked back to his friend's desk.

"That was Pearce, over at Thames House. Apparently the dead taxi driver had recently come onto their radar, along with three other men, all of whom are now missing from their workplaces."

"Terrorist cell?" Bond asked.

Tanner nodded. "That's what Pearce suspects, at least. He says all four men have only been in the country a matter of months. They came in on French passports, and claimed to be Hindus."

"Claimed?" Bond repeated.

"Yeah, Pearce thinks that was just a smokescreen to hide behind since Thames House tends to keep a very close eye on Muslims entering the country in case of Al Qaeda connections." He sighed. "He's going to send over the data they have on the four, and he says that, in the circumstances, he's happy for us to pursue them."

"Mighty generous of him," Bond said sourly. 

"Be fair James," Tanner chided mildly. "Technically, this is their case since the attack happened on British soil."

"It's _our_ head of Service who just got blown to pieces!" Bond snapped. "Sorry, Bill. It's not your fault, I know. I'm just uneasy about this whole target-the-head-of-SIS thing that seems to be developing into a recurrent nightmare."

Tanner got to his feet, and patted Bond's arm as he passed him on his way to the door. "It's all right, James. I do understand." He opened his office door and beckoned, and a moment later Eve Moneypenny, M's PA, came in.

"Take a seat, Eve," he said, "and you, James." Bond seated himself next to Eve and folded his arms. "Eve, what I'm about to tell you is in the very strictest of confidence, and you are not to repeat this information to anyone without my express permission."

The young woman's eyes widened, but she nodded firmly. "Of course, Chief of Staff."

Bond settled back into his chair as Tanner brought Eve up to speed, waiting for the other man to be ready to open up a discussion of how they were going to track down the three missing terrorists.

007-007-007

Olivia Mansfield stepped down from the plane and paused a moment to breathe in the London air: it was, of course, quite unlike Jamaican air, but the familiar tang of it was not wholly unwelcome. Of course, she'd sooner not have had to come back under such circumstances, but in way it would be pleasant to see London again. She sighed, shifted her shoulder bag into a more comfortable position, then stepped away from the steps. She had barely taken three paces forward when a tall figure approached out of the darkness and she caught her breath as she recognised James Bond striding towards her. She'd expected to see him, of course, but she had hoped to have until the following morning to prepare herself.

"Hello Olivia." He took both her hands in his, then bent his head and bestowed a brief kiss on her cheek, taking her completely by surprise.

"Good evening, James." She was relieved to notice that she didn't sound as startled as she felt, but she couldn't help wondering at such an uncharacteristic gesture. "I wasn't expecting to see you this evening."

He stepped around her to position himself behind her right shoulder as she turned towards the waiting helicopter. "Chief of Staff thought it best you had a SIS escort, ma'am, and I volunteered since we're trying to keep the number of people who know you're here to an absolute minimum."

She had to concede that made sense. "Very well." She glanced over her other shoulder and saw a young lieutenant carrying her suitcase; satisfied, she turned her attention back to the chopper, and allowed Bond to help her up into it since it was much higher up than the steps of the aeroplane she'd just flown in on. He scrambled up after her, then accepted her case from the young man, stowing it securely in place. Olivia fumbled with the straps of her safety harness, and Bond leaned over to fasten them for her, and she caught a whiff of his familiar aftershave that made her stomach clench oddly. She accepted the ear defenders Bond passed to her just as the helicopter blades began to whirr and rattle, and hurried to put them on before the noise deafened her. Bond glanced over at her, saw she had covered her ears, and gave her a nod of approbation, before leaning forward and signalling to the pilot that they were ready. There was a sudden lurch that made Olivia grab the edges of her seat as the chopper took off with a clatter, and she was suddenly glad that she hadn't eaten anything very recently.

It was only as the helicopter touched down on the roof of Vauxhall Cross that Olivia realised abruptly that she had no idea where she'd be living while she was in London, given that her flat had been sold six months ago. She wondered whether Bill Tanner had booked a hotel room for her, or if she was expected to sleep at SIS (it wouldn't be the first time, after all, that she'd spent the night there during a crisis). 

Bond helped her to unstrap her harness, then climbed down to the roof before reaching up and lifting her down beside him. He retrieved her case as Olivia stood trying to catch her breath, feeling as much disorientated by the flight as by momentarily having Bond's hands on her waist. He took her arm and tucked it inside his, her case firmly clasped in his other hand, and ducking his head, he hurried them away from the helicopter, which leapt into the air as soon as they were out of its immediate vicinity. 

Eve Moneypenny was waiting for them at the door that led from the roof down into the building, and she smiled warmly as Olivia approached, then stepped back so they could get in out of the cold night air.

As Bond led the way downstairs, Eve following them after she'd secured the door, Olivia found herself wishing she hadn't agreed to come: this was going to be a thoroughly unsettling experience.

007-007-007

Bond sat in on Bill Tanner's briefing of Olivia, but he didn't contribute, and he listened with only half an ear, ready to answer any questions if she had any; his mind was on the softness of her skin as he'd kissed her on the cheek – a gesture he hadn't had any intention of making until he'd made it, and the way it had felt right when he'd helped her into and out of the helicopter. 

Bill finished speaking and Bond brought his attention back to the present moment as Olivia asked, "Where am I going to be staying, Mr Tanner?"

"We considered booking you into a hotel under your new identity, but we were concerned about keeping you safe even so, and we think you deserve better than sleeping on the sofa in your old office, so we found another solution."

"You'll be staying at my flat," Bond told her, watching her closely. He saw her cheeks flush pink, and sensed the tension that came into her muscles, but she didn't immediately object, which pleased him. "I won't be there, of course, after tonight," he added. "And I do have a spare room."

"I don't quite know what to say, except thank you, Mr Bond." She smiled, a little tentatively he thought, but it was still a smile.

"You're quite welcome, ma'am." He glanced across at Bill Tanner. "Is that everything, Bill?"

Tanner nodded, so Bond got to his feet, then picked up Olivia's suitcase. "I'll see you both tomorrow," he said, with a nod of farewell to Bill and Eve, then he turned and led the way out of Bill's office, Olivia at his heels.

"What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall tonight," Tanner murmured to Eve once the pair were out of earshot, and she stifled a laugh.

007-007-007

Olivia was silent as they took the lift down to the underground car park; while she could see the logic behind the decision for her to stay in Bond's flat for the duration, she couldn't help feeling a little anxious about staying with him tonight: seeing him again had stirred up feelings she had thought she had successfully buried. When they had worked together, she'd always told herself that what she felt for Bond was wholly maternal, and even though she'd always known she was lying, she had managed to keep those feelings to herself. Tonight was going to be even harder than the time they'd spent in Scotland, recovering from Silva's attack, and she had thought that had been difficult enough, but she couldn't help feeling that this was going to be exponentially worse. 

They remained silent in the car, and Olivia wondered several times what he was thinking about, but she refrained from asking. It was Bond who broke the silence to ask if she had eaten.

"I haven't had anything since lunchtime," he told her, "so if you're hungry, I can rustle up something for us both – scrambled eggs, an omelette, or there's a carton of soup in the fridge. If you want something more substantial we can stop for take-away."

She thought for a moment. "Yes, I'd like that, thank you. Maybe scrambled eggs on toast?"

He took his eyes from the road for long enough to flash a smile at her, then turned his attention back to the traffic, and for a moment she couldn't think why he'd smiled at her in that way, until she remembered him making them scrambled eggs on toast with bacon for brunch after they'd arrived at Skyfall.

She pushed aside her memories of that ghastly day and focused on getting out of the car without falling down: she was beginning to feel immensely weary after an eight and a half hour flight from Kingston, a ninety minute briefing from Bill Tanner, not to mention the fact that she'd been woken at an unearthly hour by the phone call from Bill telling her of Mallory's death, and the PM's request that she come back to coordinate the operation to find Mallory's killer's co-conspirators.

Bond was at her side with commendable speed to help her and while she wanted to snap at him, and tell him she could manage, she also knew that she was grateful to him for tucking her arm through his so that she could lean on him. He picked up her suitcase, then led the way from his parking spot to the entrance to his ground-floor flat.

"It's fingerprint coded, as well as there being a keycard," he explained, "so I got the boy genius from Q-branch to come down here this afternoon so that he could reprogram it for you as well as me." He set down her case, then produced the keycard from his wallet. "I've only got one card, although Q-branch can make a new one if you lose or damage this one."

"I trust that won't be necessary, Mr Bond," Olivia said tartly.

"So do I, but I thought I'd mention it just in case." He passed her the card. "Why don't you let us in – fingerprint scanner first, then swipe the card."

"Very well."

She placed her fingertips against the scanner, and the disc changed colour from red to amber to green. Then she swiped the keycard, and there was a heavy clunk as the door locks disengaged.

Bond gestured for her to precede him, and she stepped inside, blinking when he flicked on the lights. "Why don't I show you to your room, and you can get changed, and freshen up, while I sort out some food?"

"All right."

He led the way down the hall, pointing out the sitting room, kitchen, master bedroom, bathroom, and stopped outside the final door. "Guest room." He carried her case inside and set it on the floor beside the bed. "The bathroom runs to both a bath and a walk-in shower," he told her, and she nodded.

"I think a bath might be a bad idea – I'll probably fall asleep in it." He smirked and she swatted his arm. "Behave James."

He threw her a salute, then ruined it by winking at her. "I'll leave you to get organised," he said. "Will half an hour suffice?"

She nodded, and heard him go out behind her; she picked up her case and swiftly found her toiletries: a shower was what she most wanted at the moment, followed by food and sleep.

007-007-007

Half an hour later, she made her way into the kitchen to find Bond, in shirt-sleeves and an apron, putting slices of toast onto two plates.

"I didn't know if you wanted tea or coffee, or something stronger," he said, gesturing at the kettle on the counter.

"Tea," she said, "I'll make it."

He nodded and began portioning out the scrambled eggs as Olivia switched the kettle on, checked the teapot had sufficient teabags, and put milk into two mugs. She filled the teapot and carried it over to the table, as Bond finished adding rashers of bacon to their plates. 

"Sit down," he said, "I'll get the mugs."

She obeyed, and began to eat as Bond took a seat beside her.

While they ate he gave her a brief rundown of the other residents in this small block of flats, then told her which shops were to be found in the immediate vicinity.

"I suggest, if anyone does ask, that you tell people that you're my aunt, and house sitting for me while I'm on holiday. But I don't suppose anyone will ask," he said. "Eve will be driving you to and from the office as we didn't want to assign you a separate driver since we're trying to keep the number of people who know of your return to London to an absolute minimum."

"Very well. Anything else?"

Bond shook his head.

"In that case, James, I'll say goodnight."

"Good night, Olivia." He got to her feet as she did, and she half wondered if he was going to kiss her, but he didn't, which was simultaneously a relief and disappointing. She made her way to her room, scolding herself roundly for her foolishness, and undressing swiftly, climbed into bed.

Her last thought before she fell asleep was relief that James was going away tomorrow – hopefully she wouldn't have time to make a fool of herself before he left.

007-007-007

Day Two

Bond was up early the next morning following a frustratingly restless night; he had his usual hot shower, followed by an ice cold one, then headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. He was just putting some eggs into a saucepan to boil when Olivia appeared in the doorway, looking charmingly sleep-rumpled, and he wondered what was wrong with him that a woman of her age, with bed hair, and dressed in the unsexiest of cotton pyjamas and dressing gown could instantly make him hard. He turned only his upper body towards her, worried that she'd notice his erection and be angry with him.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"I forgot to ask you last night what time you want to go in this morning?"

"We'll go when you're ready," he said. 

She nodded. "I'll go and get dressed then."

"Do you want some breakfast?"

"Toast and marmalade with a cup of tea would be perfect, please." She gave him a sleepy-looking smile and went out, and Bond leaned his forehead against the cupboard while he cursed long and silently.

When Olivia returned twenty minutes later, looking her usual immaculate self, he had got himself under control, more or less, and he was able to have a perfectly normal conversation with her while they ate. By choice they didn't put the news on – neither one of them was inclined to listen to the news readers' ill-informed analyses of the events of the previous day, nor had they any desire to see the footage of Mallory's destroyed taxi again. They were both determined to find the people responsible for the atrocity, and their resolve could not be further hardened by anything they saw on the news.

By eight o'clock they were in the office, with a rather bleary-eyed Bill Tanner, and a rather fresher-looking Eve Moneypenny in attendance.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Olivia asked Bill, and he nodded.

"I grabbed a few hours in my office," he said. 

She frowned, but didn't criticise, and Bond saw Bill's gratitude for the lack of a reprimand. "What have you got for us, Mr Tanner?"

"Using the data supplied to us by Thames House, we were able to establish that while the four men came into Britain on French passports, they weren't French nationals – not that we or Five really believed they were. They were all born in Egypt, but had been living in Pakistan until six months ago, when they moved to France; once there, they acquired new identities and French passports, and a month later they came into Britain."

"What reason did they give for coming here?" asked Olivia, a breath ahead of Bond.

"Persecution. They claimed that people believed they were Muslims not Hindus, and they'd been the targets of an anti-Muslim campaign. They found themselves different jobs and flats across London, but they met up regularly at the Hindu temple in Neasdon. We're not sure, yet, who their British handler was, but Five have promised to keep working on that as they had several suspects listed." 

Tanner looked up at Olivia. "I hope that it was all right for me to agree to that ma'am?"

She nodded. "Yes, of course. Despite the rivalries between our two organisations, when it matters most, we pull together for the sake of the safety of our country, and if they've got more data than us and are willing to do that donkey work for us, I, for one, am not going to object."

Tanned ducked his head in acknowledgement, then resumed his briefing. "We suspect that Mr Mallory wasn't the intended target of the bomb," he resumed, and Bond raised his eyebrows at his friend. "The taxi was close to the Smith Square Conference Centre when the bomb went off, and we think that may have been the actual target, and that Mr Mallory's mobile phone triggered the bomb prematurely."

"What was happening at the Conference Centre yesterday morning?" asked Bond, and Olivia cast him a look, from which he deduced she'd been about to ask the same question."

"A breakfast meeting of an anti-Muslim group," Tanner said. 

"All right. Do we have any idea, yet, who was behind the men?"

Tanner shook his head. "Not yet, ma'am. Our analysts are going through all the data, but it's slow work, as you might expect."

She nodded. "Very well. Mr Bond, I think our best use of you, until we have further solid information, is to send you to France and Pakistan, to see if you can learn anything more about the men from people with whom they worked or interacted. They must have left a trail behind, even with their changes of identity. Obviously if we find any more information for you to go on, we'll let you know."

"Yes ma'am." Bond admitted to himself that the fact that Mallory had apparently not been the intended target of the bomb in the taxi made him feel slightly easier about going overseas and leaving Olivia in London, but he hoped those people who knew she was here would not allow that to treat her safety in a cavalier manner.

"Thames House let us know that they have an unofficial agent in France who was already investigating the men's French background, and they've offered to put him in touch with you," Tanner told him. "If that's all right with you, of course, ma'am?"

Olivia nodded. "Let's accept all the help we're offered," she said. 

"What's an unofficial agent?" asked Bond.

Tanner shrugged. "I'm afraid Mr Pearce didn't elaborate on that score. He just said that if you wanted to get in touch with this Quinn, he had a mobile number for you to use." He passed Bond a piece of paper, and pointed at a short string of words beneath the phone number. "Mr Pearce gave me a message for you to text to Quinn, which will let him know who you are, and Quinn will then contact you to arrange a meeting."

Bond raised an eyebrow at the rather elaborate arrangements, then gave a mental shrug. "Very well. Is there anything else I need to know?"

Tanner shook his head. "That's all the forward progress we've made so far, I'm afraid." 

Bond glanced at Olivia, who said, "Go and see Q, 007, and get whatever equipment from him you feel may be useful, then come back and see me."

"Ma'am." He got to his feet and made his way out of the office.

007-007-007

When he returned forty minutes later, Bill Tanner and Eve Moneypenny had their heads together over Eve's computer.

"A word with you two, if you don't mind," he said, and they both looked up. "I know it looks as if Gareth Mallory wasn't the intended target of that attack, but please promise me that you won't let that stop you from keeping a close eye on Olivia? We've already nearly lost her once, I don't want to come back from this mission to find we've really lost her this time."

If he'd worried that the pair would take offence at his question, they relieved him of his apprehensions on that score by immediately agreeing to his request. 

"Don't worry, James," Eve said, placing a hand on his wrist. "I'll keep her safe for you."

"I've already fixed it with Thames House that a couple of their officers will keep an eye on your flat while she's staying there. I didn't tell Pearce who would be in there, but I expect he guessed. I made that arrangement yesterday, before we realised Mallory was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I see no reason to cancel the arrangement."

"Thank you both." He gave them a quick nod, then stepped into Mallory's office, feeling relieved at the knowledge that Olivia would be taken care of in his absence.

"Take a seat, James." She gestured at the chairs on the other side of the desk and he sat, wondering slightly at her use of his first name – something she rarely did at work. She continued typing for a few moments, allowing Bond to watch her unobtrusively; she looked tired, which was only to be expected since she'd lost five hours by coming to London and had a long flight too, but despite that, she looked fit and well: the permanent tan she'd acquired from living in Jamaica gave her skin a warm glow that made her look at least a decade younger than her true age. He couldn't help thinking that her Ice Queen persona had never fitted her less well, and he wished that he didn't have to go haring off overseas, but he had his duty to do, just as she did, and although he hadn't yet warmed to Gareth Mallory as a person, he'd respected him as a man, and he hadn't deserved to be blown to bits just because his car had broken down.

"Have you quite finished staring, 007?" Olivia's question had a sharp edge to it, and he jerked himself out of his reverie, then flashed her his best charming smile.

"Sorry, ma'am. I was just thinking how fit and well you're looking."

She made a harrumphing sort of noise, and didn't reprimand him for his cheekiness, a fact he noted with a quiet smile, then she launched into her usual pre-mission spiel, and he made himself look sober and attentive as she talked.

007-007-007

When Olivia had sent Bond on his way, she swivelled her chair around and looked out across London; part of her wished she'd turned down the PM's request to come back to SIS – she had thought she'd put this part of her life firmly behind her after so many years in service to her Queen and country. She had counted herself so lucky to have survived Silva's attack at Skyfall, and to have been able to retire quietly, and now she'd thrown that away without even having to be begged. And the worst of it was that although she'd couched her acceptance in terms of serving her Queen and country again, she had really accepted because it meant seeing James, and working with him once more. Of everything that she had given up when she'd – well, fled wasn't really too strong a word, she knew – flown away to Jamaica, James Bond was the one she missed the most. Not a day had gone by since she'd flown out of Edinburgh Airport six months ago without her thinking of him, and the evening they'd spent together when he'd been on a mission that had brought him to Jamaica had been a nostalgia-filled treat. Saying goodbye a second time had been even more painful than the first time, and she'd sworn not to do it a third time, and yet here she was, with the prospect of that third farewell in the not-too-distant future, and she was cursing herself for her weakness.

A buzz on her intercom brought her out of her self-recriminatory reverie, and she swung her chair back around to deal with it, grateful for the interruption. It would, she knew, be best if she buried herself in the job she'd come back to do, thereby leaving herself as little time as possible in which to wallow in self-pity.

007-007-007

Olivia got through the day; she not only had to coordinate the mission to find whoever was behind the attack that had killed Gareth Mallory, she also had to deal with the day-to-day business of running the Service: Mallory might be dead, but someone had to make decisions about budget allocations, equipment requisitions, personnel queries, and all the other minutiae that related to running the organisation responsible for keeping the country safe from outside attacks. 

While Olivia was the one who made all the requisite decisions, Bill Tanner relayed them to the other staff: so far, aside from Bond, only three people within SIS knew that she was back: Bill Tanner, Eve Moneypenny, and Q, and they were hoping to keep it that way for however long it took for Bond to complete his mission. Of course, because Olivia had been out of harness for six months, Bill Tanner had to brief her on everything before she could make the necessary decisions, which meant that by the time Eve drove her away from Vauxhall Cross at seven thirty that evening, she felt quite exhausted.

"Tired ma'am?" Eve asked as Olivia tried to stifle a yawn.

"Mmm. I'd forgotten how exhausting this job is. I can't claim to have been having an entirely lazy retirement, but nothing is quite as mentally draining as running SIS."

"Perhaps it won't seem quite so tiring once you've got over the jetlag."

"I hope it won't. I shall certainly be glad to get back to Kingston once this matter is dealt with and my, or rather Mr Mallory's, successor has been appointed."

Eve nodded. "While I'm sorry for the reason you're here, it is good to have you back again ma'am."

"Thank you."

Deciding she was too tired to cook this evening, Olivia got Eve to stop on the way back to the flat so that she could grab a take-away, and some other essentials which James didn't keep at home.

She made her way inside and carried the groceries through to the kitchen; she left everything there, grabbed the carrier bag containing the Thai take-away cartons, collected a napkin, some cutlery, and some wine, and decamped to the sitting room to eat in front of the television. Eschewing the news, she noodled around the stations until she found _Brief Encounter_ just starting on one of the satellite channels, and she settled down to watch in comfort.

After the film finished, she went back to the kitchen and dumped the empty take-away cartons, then she unpacked the remainder of the groceries, before deciding that if she didn't go to bed, she'd fall asleep on her feet. She rinsed the wine glass and cutlery, then left them on the side to wash properly in the morning after breakfast, then made her way to the guest room to crawl gratefully into her pyjamas, then the bed. 

Her final thought before she succumbed to sleep was the hope that James would be back soon so she could get back to the sunshine, warmth and peace of Kingston.

007-007-007

About the same time that Olivia was going to bed, Bond was meeting the unofficial agent from Five, the mysterious Quinn, in a Parisian bar. The place was busy and noisy, but not to such an extent that they were forced to shout to make themselves heard. 

Bond judged Quinn to be in his late thirties; he was several inches taller than Bond, brown-haired and grey-eyed. He seemed quite bland, in fact, until Bond looked into his eyes and found in them a world-weariness that made him appear much older.

They indulged in a brief, silent appraisal of each other, agent to agent, for the first couple of minutes after Bond arrived, then Quinn said with obvious sincerity, "I was sorry to hear about Gareth Mallory's murder. I never met him, but I knew his reputation, and he was a decent man."

"Thanks."

"My Chief's told me to give you every assistance I can in order for you to track down the bastards who helped to kill Mallory. I have absolutely no reservations about giving you every scrap of data I've got. I can also show you the two boarding-houses where they lived, if you think it'll help, although their rooms have been cleared and redecorated since then, of course."

"I'd be very glad to have the data," Bond said, "but I'm not sure there's much point in looking at their rooms, unless you think there's anything you might have missed?" He phrased the question courteously, not wanting Quinn to think he doubted his competence.

Quinn shook his head. "I wouldn't say I'm one hundred percent certain, but I am ninety-nine percent sure."

"Good enough. Did the men remain in Paris for the whole of the month they were in France before they entered the UK?"

"No. They were here for four days at the start, and another three at the end of their stay. The rest of the time was spent in the south, somewhere. I've yet to establish precisely where."

"In that case, I think I'll head south."

Quinn nodded. "Do you want some company, back-up perhaps?"

"Can I sleep on that, and let you know?"

"Sure. You've got my mobile number, send me a text if you want me to come with you. If I don't hear from you, I'll assume the answer's negative."

"Thanks."

"In the meantime, if you slip your hand under the front edge of your chair, you'll find an envelope containing the data I promised." He got to his feet, downing the last of his drink as he stood. "Good luck, Bond."

"Thank you." Bond waited until Quinn had disappeared into the crowd, then slipped his hand underneath his chair and found the promised envelope. He gave it a quick tug, then conveyed it swiftly into the inside pocket of his black leather jacket. A few moments later he finished his own drink, then got to his feet and made his way out onto the street.

He set off towards his hotel at a brisk pace, wondering as he walked, how the rest of Olivia's day had gone, and if she was now safely tucked up in bed in his guest room.

007-007-007

Olivia was caught up in a nightmare that seemed to have conflated Silva's attack on Vauxhall Cross with the circumstances of Gareth Mallory's death, and she found herself struggling vainly to escape from the building as bombs went off left and right, and fires raged. She could hear James, his voice feeble, as if he'd been hurt, and she tried to shout back, to say that she was coming, but all she could do was cough as the heat and smoke seared her throat and lungs. Gradually she sank to the floor of a corridor, tears flowing down her face as she realised they were all going to die.

When she woke she remembered her nightmare, and knew it was nothing more than a dream, but that didn't stop her from shuddering a little at the images that still lingered in her mind. She pushed herself upright, and scrubbed a hand across her face to wake herself properly, then stared around in surprise as she realised that she was in James' bed, and not the one in the guest room.

She hadn't sleepwalked since she was a very small child, and it was disconcerting to discover she'd done it again, and even more worrying to realise where her sleepwalking had led her. Thanking her lucky stars that it hadn't happened the night before when James had been sleeping in his own bed, she scrambled out of bed and hurried into the guest room to grab her toiletries for a shower. She would not, she resolved, be mentioning this to anyone, especially not James Bond.


	2. Chapter 2

Day Three

Bond spent the morning following his meeting with Quinn, reading the data he'd been given. It tracked every detail of the four men's movements during the seven days they had spent in Paris, which was quite an achievement for a trail that had been cold for six months. Unfortunately, when they had left Paris for 'parts unknown', and returned there, they had done so by car, which made tracing their movements much harder than if they'd travelled by public transport.

And then a face leapt out at him; Quinn had included photographs taken from security cameras of the four men whenever they'd met with others, and one of those meetings, on the very morning of the day they'd taken the ferry over to England, had been with a man known to Bond as Mr White, a member of a huge, clandestine organisation which called itself Quantum. 

Bond grabbed his phone and speed-dialled the number that would connect him with Bill Tanner.

"I've got something," he said without preamble.

"Yes?" He could hear a quiver of anticipation in the Chief of Staff's voice.

"Quantum," Bond said, and caught a cut-off curse from Tanner.

"Wait a minute, I'll get M – I mean Olivia – in on this too."

Bond waited, his heart rate increasing in a way he wasn't sure was wholly connected to his discovery.

"What have you got 007?" asked Olivia, her tone brisk. He wondered if he was imagining the pleased note in her voice.

Bond told them, explaining the work which Quinn had done to trace the movements of the four terrorists.

"Where did the meeting with Mr White take place?" asked Olivia.

"At the Gare du Nord train station," Bond said, checking the details Quinn had appended to the back of the photograph. "I think I'll take a stroll down there and see if anyone recognises our Mr White, and can tell me where he was going. Of course, it might have been a bluff, him meeting them at the railway station, but it's also just possible that he was saving time in meeting them there because he was catching a train."

"I think it's definitely worth you pursuing this lead, Bond," Olivia said.

"Very well. I'm going to drop into Station F first and fax this stuff through to you, in case our analysts spot anything else that's immediately relevant."

"Very good. And Bond?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Be careful."

"Always am," Bond said cheerily, knowing she'd know it was a lie, but wanting to reassure her. As he ended the call he wondered if it was Mallory's death or the six months she'd been away that had led her to say that – she had rarely bothered to do so before.

He shuffled the papers back into the envelope Quinn had given him and stowed it back in his pocket, then he swiftly packed his bag before descending to the hotel foyer to sign out of his room. Out on the street he grabbed a taxi and gave the driver the address of a bar close to where Station F's offices were located. From there he crossed the road to stare into a shop window, using the glass to check who was around on the street and to see if anyone was paying him special non-attention; he knew from bitter experience that Quantum had people everywhere, and it paid to be sensible of that fact, rather than assuming he was safe. Of course, Quantum might have a mole inside Station F, but he had to risk it. He needed a secure fax machine, not a public one, and the Station's was probably the most secure. He had a strong feeling that Olivia would never forgive him if he got himself killed on this mission, and he would be less than happy at such an outcome since he felt there was still some unresolved matters between him and his former boss. 

007-007-007

An hour after Bond's telephone call, Tanner knocked on Olivia's door, and at her invitation to enter, carried in a sheaf of papers. 

"These are the faxes from 007, ma'am. I've given copies to our analysts as well."

"Thank you." She took the paperwork from him, then looked up as she realised he hadn't gone back to his own office yet. "Is there anything else, Mr Tanner?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head. "No ma'am."

"That sounds very much like a 'Yes ma'am', Mr Tanner."

He gave a shrug. "I just wondered if you were okay. I mean, it can't be easy, being back here after everything that happened with Silva, and knowing that Mr Mallory wasn't the intended target of that bomb probably isn't much consolation now that we know that Quantum's involved."

She bit back her first instinct to tell Tanner to mind his own business; after all, in a way, her mental health was his business – he was her Chief of Staff again, no matter how temporary her time here was going to be.

"I will let you know if I can't cope, Mr Tanner."

"Yes, ma'am." He gave a quick nod, then left, and she knew he'd recognise that she was conceding that not everything was okay, but for the moment, she was not going to discuss it.

She set aside the rather dull report she'd been reading, and turned her attention to the faxes from Bond: it wasn't that she didn't trust the Service's analysts, it was just that another pair of eyes couldn't hurt.

She sorted through the photographs first, pausing at the one of Mr White, then she had an idea and picked up the phone to ring Q-branch.

"Q?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"We now know that Mr White of Quantum is involved in the plot that caused the death of Mr Mallory. Can you run a photo of him through your facial recognition software and see if there have been any sightings of him in public places in the last six months?"

"Yes ma'am. Where in particular?"

"Anywhere," Olivia said. "Everywhere. We know he was in Paris six months ago, but not where he went from there, and while 007 can certainly tout Mr White's photo around the city, I thought it might be quicker if you ran your program – you might spot him sooner than 007."

"Yes, I can do that, although it's not going to be terribly quick."

"It'll be quicker than Bond traipsing all over Paris, I'm sure," she told him. "So get onto it, please, Q."

"Yes ma'am."

Olivia put down the receiver, then checked her watch and decided that a lunch break would be a good thing. Using the staff restaurant was out of the question since no one was supposed to know she was in the building, so she called Eve in and asked her to go out for a sandwich for her.

"Do you want anything in particular ma'am?" Eve asked.

Olivia shook her head, then frowned, and said, "Actually, I think I'd like smoked salmon and cream cheese, please."

"Got it. I'll be as quick as I can."

Olivia nodded, her attention already back on the pile of faxes.

007-007-007

Bond, after a fruitless two hours trying to find a trace of White at the Gare du Nord. was refreshing himself with a late lunch of a sandwich and a beer in a pavement café when his phone rang.

"Bond."

"How did you get on at the railway station?" Olivia asked.

"No sign of White," he said, "or rather no one would admit to seeing him."

"Well, I have some good news for you, 007." 

She sounded excited, he thought, and felt his own interest leap. "Yes ma'am?"

"Mr White arrived at JFK Airport yesterday on a flight from Rome."

"How on earth do you know that?" he demanded.

"I had Q put White's photograph through his facial recognition software, and it just popped out the answer. Mr Tanner's just putting through a booking for you to fly over to New York from Charles de Gaulle airport. He'll send you a text to confirm the booking, so I suggest you get over there quick smart."

"Yes ma'am." 

"Bring him back alive, if you can, 007. And if you can't, bring him down."

Bond felt his eyebrows rise, but he simply acknowledged her instructions, then ended the call. He rapidly finished his lunch, for which he'd already paid, then flagged down a taxi and requested the driver to take him to the airport.

As the taxi wove through the traffic, Bond couldn't help feeling impressed that Olivia had thought of running White's photo through the facial recognition software – it certainly saved time to know where White had been as recently as yesterday, and he hoped that he wouldn't have too much trouble in picking up the other man's trail once he arrived in New York himself.

He wanted this mission over as quickly as possible – not because he was eager for Olivia to return to Kingston, but because he was even more concerned for her safety now that he knew Quantum was involved. White's man, Mitchell, who'd been Olivia's bodyguard for several years when she was M, had tried to kill her once, and there was no knowing whether White had put her on his blacklist since she had survived that attack, and Bond had overturned Quantum's plans in Bolivia. He was quite sure that he personally had a place on White's blacklist, but that didn't worry him – he had to face that kind of danger all the time, Olivia did not.

007-007-007

As she ate the sandwich which Eve had fetched for her, Olivia found herself recalling a day, not long before she'd flown from Scotland to Kingston, when the medical people had declared her fit enough to get up, and Bond had taken her for a drive into the countryside around Edinburgh, where they'd both been hospitalised as a result of the battle at Skyfall. Unknown to her, James had packed a picnic lunch, which he'd cadged from one of the nurses, and driven her out to the coast at a place called Crail. It had been a blessedly peaceful day: cold, but gloriously sunny, and she had returned to the hospital feeling revitalised, and more alive than at any time since that bloody data drive had gone missing all those months before.

Bond's picnic had consisted of smoked salmon sandwiches, a bottle of Rosé wine, and a sinful chocolate fudge cake, and she recalled the way he'd watched her eating her portion of cake with an expression of desire in his eyes. She hadn't known if he had been unaware of just how transparent his feelings were, or simply hadn't cared. At the time she'd been sorely tempted to let him seduce her, but she hadn't given in to that temptation because she'd known she was leaving Britain for good within a few days, and she hadn't wanted to start something with James that she knew she wouldn't have wanted to give up. 

Since then she'd often wished she had succumbed and let him have his wicked way with her, but even when they'd had dinner together that night when he'd been in Jamaica on a mission, she'd kept things as platonic as she could. Giving him up a third time was going to be vastly harder, and she wondered, yet again, what had possessed her to agree to the PM's request to return to SIS until a new M could be appointed.

007-007-007

Bond used part of his eight hour flight time to finish reading the paperwork which Quinn had given him the evening before, but nothing further leapt out at him: no faces from the past, no known associates of Mr White or members of Quantum lurked amidst the named contacts of the four terrorists. In a way that was a relief – it was bad enough to be dealing with one member of Quantum, but at least it was only the one, and he was a known quantity, a man whom Bond had already bested once. He silently acknowledged to himself that taking White down a second time would give him immense satisfaction, and while he would take pleasure in killing White and putting him permanently out of contention, he knew that Olivia would prefer to have Bond take him alive if possible.

Arriving at JFK, he headed out into the street in search of a taxi: Tanner had left it up to him to book a hotel, knowing that Bond had his own preferences in such matters, He'd hardly begun scanning the street when something jabbed into his ribs on the left side and he felt himself stiffen in shock, until a familiar voice drawled in his ear.

"Well, boy, what do you want here?"

Bond reached down and grabbed the wrist of the man behind him, pulling him around, then clapping him on the back. "Felix, you old sod, what are you doing here?"

"Catching you by surprise, apparently," the other man answered with a smirk. "Don't you watch your back?"

Bond scowled. "No, but what are you doing here?"

Leiter chuckled softly. "I saw your name down on the flight here, so I thought I'd come and see if you needed any help. I know what you're like, James Bond. When you're in town, things tend to get hot, if not downright explosive." He slapped Bond on the shoulder. "You're a trouble magnet, my friend."

Bond's scowl deepened. "Has my boss being talking out of turn?"

Leiter's chuckle became an outright guffaw of laughter. "No, my friend. I just used my mighty powers of observation. Why don't you come with me, and we can have a beer and play catch up?"

Bond considered for a moment, then gave a nod. "Thanks Felix." Leiter, a CIA man, knew about Quantum, and had been instrumental in helping Bond to take down Le Chiffre during the Casino Royale affair some three years ago. He'd also given Bond some help when he'd been chasing Dominic Greene, and it would be not only useful, but good, to have an ally who knew the ground so well. 

"Good. Come with me." He strode off along the street, the epitome of a man of shadows with his dark skin and dark clothing, and Bond matched his pace as his friend led him towards a dark green coloured car. 

The pair climbed into the car, and Leiter swung out into the traffic with the magnificent disregard of all New Yorkers. "I've got a sweet little place not too far away," he told Bond. "Better if we go there than to some bar or club."

"Suits me," Bond agreed. 

Twenty minutes later, Leiter was letting them into his apartment, which was comfortably furnished in a sparing manner. 

"Take a seat, James, I'll be with you in two shakes." Leiter gestured at the doorway of the sitting room while he went on to the kitchen, and Bond happily made himself comfortable on the leather sofa. 

Leiter returned a few moments later, carrying two beers and a large bag of pretzels. He passed one of the beers to Bond, then sat down and opened his own can of beer.

"So what brings the famous James Bond to my neck of the woods?" Leiter asked.

"Quantum," Bond answered. "It appears they're behind the terrorist attack that left my boss dead."

"M's dead?" Leiter paused with his drink halfway to his mouth.

"Gareth Mallory," Bond clarified. "He took over after the last M was murdered at Skyfall by Raoul Silva." It wasn't that Bond didn't trust Felix Leiter – he trusted him with his life – but he still felt it was wiser to keep it secret that Olivia wasn't dead: what Felix didn't know, he couldn't be made to tell.

"Shit!" Leiter drank, then asked, "Any idea why Quantum wanted him dead?"

Bond shook his head. "It appears he wasn't the intended target of the bomb. But we're not really sure why Quantum wanted to hit the target that they actually missed." He shrugged. "Anyway, we know that Mr White met a group of four terrorists, one of whom was driving the taxi that blew up, on the day they entered the UK on false passports."

"So you're going after him again?"

Bond nodded. "He arrived at JFK on a flight from Rome yesterday, so I've come to find him and take him back to London, if I can." 

"How can I help?"

Bond smiled. "I want to find out where White went after he arrived at JFK."

Leiter smiled back. "Consider it done, my friend. I'll give my buddy Phil a call, and he'll start tracking White. I take it you've got a photo of your friend?"

Bond pulled out the envelope of data Quinn had given him, and passed across the photo of White. 

"Give me five minutes, and he'll make a start," Leiter said, taking the photograph. He opened up a laptop that had been sitting on the coffee table under a pile of magazines, and attached a handheld device with which he scanned the photo, then passed it back to Bond. He then pulled out his cell phone and pressed a button to speed dial someone.

"Hey Phil, got a favour to ask from you for one of our British cousins. I've just emailed you a photo of a chap, calls himself Mr White, although he may've been travelling under some other name. Flew into JFK yesterday from Rome. We want any data you can get on him – current alias, his travel itinerary, anything you can pull on him, please."

Leiter listened intently for a few moments, then gave a sharp nod. "Yup, that's good. Email me everything you get, please. Okay. Yeah, I'll buy you a couple of beers next time I see you, okay? Sure. Thanks. Bye."

"There you go, my friend, all taken care of. Now, where're you sleeping tonight? Did you book a room yet?"

Bond shook his head. "Not yet."

"Well then, you can crash here, if you like. That sofa folds out into a bed, and I can give you breakfast in the morning. Phil will email the info once he's got it – but it may not be for a few hours, so why not get some shut-eye first?"

"Don't mind if I do," Bond agreed readily. 

"Then let me show you where to find things." He got to his feet, and Bond followed as he showed him where to find the bathroom and the kitchen. "If you need a midnight snack, help yourself," Leiter said as he took an armful of bed linen from a cupboard in the bathroom. "I know what it's like when your body clock's all screwy from changing time zones."

"Thanks Felix. I owe you one."

"Us spooky brothers have to stick together, my friend." He winked, and Bond laughed.

They unfolded the sofa-bed and made it up, then Felix went to take a shower before bed. Bond sat staring at his phone for a few minutes, contemplating ringing Olivia. She wouldn't be impressed if he did since the five hour time difference meant it was currently four o'clock in the morning in London, but he was tempted all the same. He had a sudden longing to hear her voice again, even if it was only to have her scolding him. He shook his head, convinced he was turning sentimental in his old age, and found himself recalling Mallory's accusation to Olivia – that she was sentimental about Bond. While Bond had dismissed it at the time, he'd wondered more than once since whether there was any truth in Mallory's words – sometimes, when they'd been in Scotland, recovering from the events at Skyfall, he'd dared to believe Mallory was right, and the evening they'd spent together in Kingston had only seemed to confirm his suspicions, but Olivia had made no move, and he hadn't had the nerve to try to make the first move because in his head, she was still 'M', not Olivia Mansfield.

007-007-007

The day before Bond had arrived in New York, Patricia Kunz had met Mr White at JFK Airport after he'd flown in from Rome. Kunz, a tall, thirty-something, blonde-haired woman with a slim figure and elegant clothes, always drew everyone's eyes wherever she went, an effect of which she was particularly proud, and which she regularly used to her advantage, both personally, and for Quantum. A Swiss-born American citizen, she had come to prominence within the Quantum organisation following the death of Dominic Greene at the hands of one James Bond; oh, he might not have pulled the trigger and killed Greene, but his interference in the scheme Greene and General Medrano had been cooking up in Bolivia had led directly to Greene's death, and as a consequence, Kunz had risen through the ranks until White had appointed her his number two.

She collected White and drove him to her Manhattan apartment where they would be spending the night before travelling on to Missouri, where they were meeting a contact.

"I thought we might have dinner together at – " she began as she negotiated the heavy traffic.

"No." The single syllable was coldly delivered in a firm tone that indicated White would not debate the matter with her.

She pouted, annoyed that she'd have to cancel the reservation which had required a good deal of wangling to acquire. Not that she hadn't enjoyed wangling with the maitre d' – she liked her men submissive, if she couldn't get them powerful, and he'd been delighted to let her dominate him if it meant he got to fuck a woman as gorgeous as Patricia Kunz. 

"You may give me a sandwich and some tea," White informed her. "I have a great deal of work to do before we leave town tomorrow, and I do not wish to waste it indulging in frivolities. Understand?"

"Yes sir." Kunz knew that letting him see how pissed off she was feeling was a potentially dangerous act of rebellion, but on the other hand, he might offer some other concession for letting her down over dinner – with White you never knew, and that was why she enjoyed being involved with him: the thrill she got from trying to anticipate his reactions often aroused her unbearably, and sometimes he'd order her to masturbate in front of him, and another time he'd fuck her, matching her violence with his own. 

She pulled into the underground car park of her apartment building, then led the way to the elevator, which swiftly carried them up to the penthouse apartment. She showed White into her office, which was completely secure from anyone who might feel inclined to pry into her secrets, then went to the kitchen to call Antonio and cancel her reservation. That done, she then set about making supper for White: he'd specified a sandwich, but she knew better than to assume he'd meant that literally. 

Eventually she had everything assembled, and she carried the laden tray through to the office, knocking once before she pushed open the door.

"Good girl." He cast a brief glance at her and the tray, nodding at a side table where she set it down.

"Do you require anything else, Mr White?"

He flicked another glace at her, eyebrows raised, and enquired in a sardonic tone, "You were planning to go out anyway?"

"No, sir. If you don't need me immediately, I was going to have a bath."

He ran his eyes up and down her expensively-clad body in a cold, calculating manner, then gave a curt nod. "Very well. But don't bother dressing again – I may want you to entertain me later."

"Yes, sir." She allowed him to see her shiver of anticipation at his words, then turned and closed the door gently behind her before hurrying to the bathroom.

When she'd gone, White shook his head slightly, before turning his attention back to Kunz's computer and the emails awaiting his notice. The first gave him the bad news that while the plan to blow up the new head of the British Secret Intelligence Service had been successful, it had not had quite the effect desired by Quantum because the bomb had exploded prematurely. He scowled, irritated by the way his campaigns against SIS always seemed to come unstuck. Checking further emails from his man in the British Government, Guy Haines, he discovered the bomb attack had had a wholly expected consequence: that insufferable prig, James Bond, was already searching for him. White fully intended for Bond to find him, and then he would destroy Bond – the man had been a thorn in White's side for far too long.

He continued reading and answering emails for another hour, made two brief telephone calls to ensure that certain key people were where they needed to be, then he settled into the comfortable armchair next to the side table where Patricia had left his supper tray. 

He was savouring the last of his wine and contemplating a postprandial brandy, when the woman in question knocked on the door again and he called her in, anticipating a pleasant interlude with her, before he resumed dealing with the more important matters that required his attention.

007-007-007

Day Four

After her second night in James' bed Olivia woke feeling better rested and with a sense of relief that she hadn't had another nightmare. She decided there and then that she would continue to sleep in his bed during his absence as she felt safer, as well as much closer to him.

Eve picked her up at the usual time and she sent for Bill Tanner as soon as she was settled in her office. 

"Any news?"

"007 called twenty minutes ago, ma'am," he answered, and she felt a pang of disappointment that she'd missed him, and an irrational annoyance that he hadn't timed his call better so that she could talk to him in person.

"What did he have to say for himself?"

"That he'd run into an old friend, Felix Leiter of the CIA, and Leiter had his people working on White's whereabouts."

She nodded. "Let's hope Mr Leiter can keep 007 from doing anything too rash, shall we?"

Tanner did his best to hide his smile but she caught the quirk of his lips before he replied, "Yes ma'am."

"Anything else?"

"Not from Bond yet, ma'am." He handed her a sheaf of files, and she managed not to groan in dismay as she stacked them on top of her already full in-tray. "That top file's come over from Thames House. It's the information we requested on that anti-Muslim group that was meeting in the Smith Square Conference Centre when the bomb went off."

"Thank you, Mr Tanner."

He gave her a respectful nod, then went away to his desk which she knew featured another heavily-laden in-tray. 

She massaged her temples, then turned on her computer and prepared to deal with the overnight emails first. She was surprised to see that the most recent one was from James, and she felt a foolish leap of pleasure at the sight. She opened it up, telling herself that it was probably something very boring – even though he wasn't in the habit of sending her emails.

_Dear Olivia,_

_I wasted nearly five minutes trying to decide how to address you in this email. Which has to be the single most foolish thing I've ever done in my career – and you know how foolish I've been in the past._

_Anyway I wanted to say I'm sorry I missed you when I rang earlier – I really just wanted to touch base with you, as Felix would say._

_I hope you're taking care of yourself, and keeping yourself safe. And I bet you just muttered 'pot, kettle' or something in response to that last. I'll do my best to keep myself safe, I promise, but we both know what my job's like._

_Best, James._

She was smiling by the time she reached the end, even though she couldn't help thinking that it was rather uncharacteristic of him to have emailed her simply as a means of keeping in touch. Then she recalled the way he'd greeted her when she'd arrived at Northolt, and she had to admit that their relationship had changed since her retirement, if not before then. She shook her head slightly, then typed out a quick response, gently chiding him for wasting her time with his email, then ruined it by telling him that it was good to hear from him.

As she turned to the next email in her inbox, she told herself not to expect any further emails from him – he was likely to be far too busy as soon as he got on White's track.

007-007-007

Leiter woke Bond at seven o'clock the next morning to tell him that he'd had an answer from his buddy, Phil.

"White was picked up from the airport by a blonde named Kunz," Leiter said. "Phil managed to tag her licence plate and found she has an apartment in upper Manhattan. He's checking the security cameras there to get their movements in and out of the apartment."

"What do we know about the blonde Ms Kunz?"

"A Swiss-born American. Age about thirty, five foot eight tall, one hundred and twenty pounds in weight. Very classy looking dame, I think." He turned his laptop around and showed Bond the footage from the airport security camera which showed her leading White out to her car, a red Porsche that seemed to suit her very well.

"Mmm, not bad," agreed Bond, while privately deciding that she was too young, too tall, and too blonde for his taste.

"Want some breakfast while we wait for Phil to update us?"

"Yes please."

"Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee." 

They settled on what Bond wanted to eat, and Leiter went away to fetch it, while Bond took a closer look at the photo of Ms Kunz: he realised that he was correct in thinking she'd seemed vaguely familiar – he'd seen her at Tosca in Bregenz, when he'd been following Greene. After a moment's thought he attached the photo to an email and sent it to Bill Tanner to ask if SIS had anything on her, explaining that she'd been the one who had collected White at JFK on his arrival.

By the time they'd finished breakfast, Leiter's buddy had been through the security camera footage at Kunz's apartment building and he'd logged them going in a relatively short time after they'd left JFK – meaning they hadn't stopped off anywhere on the way, and them leaving the following morning at seven o'clock. Phil had also caught Kunz's car driving through Holland Tunnel, which Leiter told Bond meant they were almost certainly driving inter-state.

"What do you want to do, James?" Leiter asked. "This is your show. I'm just here to provide back-up, wheels, and local intel."

"I'd like to take a look at Kunz's apartment," Bond said. "We don't know where she and White are headed so we can't try to get there ahead of them until we have their destination. And the best way to find out that information is to take a look at her place."

"Let's go then."

They were in the car and en route to upper Manhattan in a very short space of time. Leiter had brought his laptop, and he assured Bond that he had a bag in the trunk so if Bond wanted to go in pursuit of White and Kunz, Leiter was ready to accompany him.

"Don't you have other things you have to be doing?" Bond asked, adding quickly, "Not that I'm ungrateful – it's good to have you along – but I don't want to get you into trouble."

Leiter chuckled. "James, my friend, you always bring trouble. But don't worry, I have permission to 'ride herd' on you, as my boss put it."

Bond scowled, which just made Leiter laugh even more. "Ride herd?" he asked in a pained voice.

"Keep an eye on you," Leiter clarified. "And make sure you don't get into any trouble with the local authorities."

"Huh."

Leiter patted his arm. "Don't worry, my friend, I'll keep you from ending up in any jail cells."

Bond scowled again, and Leiter was still chuckling as he pulled into the underground car park of Kunz's apartment building, but as they exited the car, Leiter's expression sobered and he resumed a professional demeanour as he led the way over to the elevator and punched the button for the penthouse.

They rode up in silence and stepped out into a brightly lit lobby. Bond crossed to the door and inspected the locks. "Can't believe she doesn't have an electronic lock on this," he observed, as he lifted his foot and opened up the secret compartment in his shoe to remove his lock picks.

Leiter watched impassively as Bond manipulated the metal in the lock, then smiled when he opened the door and waved Leiter inside. Once in, the two agents prowled around the apartment looking at everything, and it was Leiter who found the locked door, which Bond opened to reveal Kunz's office. 

Bond started going through the contents of the desk while Leiter looked at the laptop.

"Damn, this thing's password protected. I'll have to see if I can get one of the tech boys down here." He pulled out his phone.

"Allow me," Bond said, and pulled out his own phone. "The resident whiz-kid in charge of Q-branch gave me an app that can figure out passwords." He took a USB cable from his jacket pocket and used it to connect the phone to the laptop, then tapped a couple of keys on the phone. Less than a minute later, the screen of the laptop came alive and Leiter gestured for Bond to take the first look.

"You got us in, my friend, so you get first dibs."

Bond smirked up at him as he sat down and began scrolling through the files. He had to deploy Q's app twice more before he found what they were most interested in.

"Looks like friend White has got an appointment in Kansas City, Missouri," Bond told Leiter. "Tomorrow evening, 8pm local time." Leiter leaned over his shoulder to read the information, then grunted softly.

"Reckon our best chance is to fly over there," he said, "that way we can stake out the rendezvous before he shows for the meeting. Maybe even get eyes on the contact as well." He frowned at the screen. "Ever heard of this Johansson?"

Bond shook his head. "No." He copied the files over onto his phone, them forwarded them to Tanner with a request for any information SIS held on the contact. He also told Tanner than he and Felix Leiter were heading out to Missouri themselves, and would be in touch soon. He made himself not append any personal messages for Olivia – he didn't want Tanner, or Olivia herself, to think he'd gone soft, or lost his mind. Nevertheless, he knew that once this mission was complete, and before she returned to Kingston, he'd have to talk to her.

Deciding there was nothing else of immediate interest on Kunz's laptop, Bond copied the files from her hard-drive via his phone's USB link, onto a secure server at SIS. As he did so, he reflected that Q might not thank him for the size of the upload, but if there was anything useful on there, he knew he'd be thanked later.

They locked the office and Kunz's apartment behind them, then made their way down to the car and Leiter drove them back to the airport to catch the flight Leiter had booked them on while Bond was grabbing Kunz's data. 

"I'm surprised you didn't suggest driving up to Missouri," Bond observed as the plane rose into the sky a short time later. "I thought you Americans were crazy about long road trips."

Leiter snorted. "Not all of us are, James, and even when we are, some of us can see the wisdom of taking a plane and getting there more quickly, and feeling fresher once we've arrived for not having spent nearly twenty hours driving nearly a thousand miles."

"Good to know," Bond said, smirking.

They chatted easily about past missions, colleagues, and bosses, and after a couple of hours Leiter revealed that he had found a woman about whom he was very serious.

"Another agent?" Bond asked.

His friend nodded. "Can't really date civilians in our job, not seriously anyway."

"True."

"And what about you, my friend? Because you're not getting any younger, you know." 

Bond raised his eyebrows, biting back a sharp retort: the American was right, of course – he wasn't getting any younger – a fact he'd been violently and painfully reminded of six months ago when he'd gone up against Silva in less than peak condition and nearly paid for it with his life. 

"There's someone I'd like to get closer to," he admitted. "I'm just not sure she'd be willing to have me." 

"Well, don't give up on the idea, James, and don't be afraid to ask her – she might say no, but then again, she might say yes, and until you ask, you won't know for sure, will you?"

"True." Bond closed his eyes and allowed himself to recall the time he'd spent with Olivia when they'd been recovering from Silva's attempts to kill them both. He had sat at her bedside, reading to her from his favourite Scottish authors as she recovered from the life-saving surgery that she'd needed. When she'd recovered enough to be allowed out of bed, but not out of the hospital yet, he'd taken to wheeling her into the grounds – well-wrapped against the cold – and he'd find a quiet spot where they could talk about matters other than missions or life-and-death scenarios. Those few weeks had been the most pleasant of Bond's adult life, and it had been far more painful than he'd anticipated to have Olivia fly off to her Jamaican retirement. He'd seriously considered begging her to stay, then he'd considered begging her to let him run away with her. In the end, however, he'd simply said his farewells, then dragged himself back to London, and his duty. Now he wondered what had possessed him to let her go without making some attempt to tell her how he felt about her – the only reason he could think of was fear of rejection: he hadn't want her to laugh at him. 

007-007-007

As she was driven home to Bond's flat that evening, Olivia couldn't help feeling satisfied at the progress they were making in the hunt for the men behind Gareth Mallory's murder: the data Bond had transferred from Ms Kunz's computer had proved to have information about all four of the men in the terrorist cell, and even now the three survivors were being tracked across Europe as they fled towards Egypt.

And James had been in touch, albeit not directly with her, but he was in contact, which was better than not hearing from him at all. She couldn't help hoping he'd be back home in another day or two, and she knew they'd have to talk before she returned to Kingston. 

She made herself a cheese and ham omelette for dinner, then she settled in the sitting room with the radio on playing something soothingly classical, and a copy of _Waverly_ to keep her company.

She found herself distracted, however, by her recollection of James reading to her as she lay recovering from the surgery to remove the bullet and fragments of stone that had torn into her during the fire-fight inside Skyfall. To this day she still didn't know exactly how she'd got across the moor to the chapel, and she knew that if it hadn't been for Kincade, she wouldn't have made it even halfway before she'd collapsed. It was only pride and sheer stubbornness that had made her stand and face Silva, even though they had both known she was literally dying on her feet at that point. 

She shuddered at the memory, and made herself think again of James reading to her: he'd sat close to her bedside, her left hand in his, while his right held his book open on his knees, and occasionally he'd rub his thumb across her knuckles in a tender gesture that she had found deeply moving. She found herself wishing that James was here now, but then realised that was foolish, since if he was here, she probably wouldn't be – his mission would be over, and she'd be back in Kingston. She knew that Whitehall was close to making a decision about who would be replacing Mallory on a permanent basis, and she had little reason to suppose they'd delay making that decision – she had already made it clear to the PM that she had no desire to come out of retirement to resume the role full time again.

While it was true that there was no reason to rush back to Jamaica once James' mission was complete, she also knew she couldn't remain in London indefinitely. No matter what the outcome of her conversation with James, she didn't want to stay in England: she needed the warmth and peace of her home in Kingston.

She sighed, feeling as if her thoughts were going around in circles, and decided she should go to bed.

007-007-007

On their arrival in Kansas City, Leiter took care of the details of hiring a car and booking them into a motel while Bond checked his phone for any messages from London. He found two messages, both from Tanner, with further information about Johansson, White's contact here in Missouri, and Patricia Kunz. He smiled in satisfaction, then joined Leiter as he headed outside to collect the rental car.

"You look like the proverbial cat, my friend," Leiter observed as he turned out of the airport car park and set off on the highway towards the motel.

"That's observant of you, Felix," Bond teased. "Yes, I have acquired some deliciously tasty cream, and because I'm a generous man, I'm going to share it with you."

Leiter snorted, though Bond wasn't sure if it was the continuation of his own cat analogy, or Bond's teasing, that had provoked the snort. Rather than tease his friend further, however, he summarised Tanner's information.

"Johansson is a German-born American whose father served in World War Two and was captured by the Allies after his plane was shot down over Scotland. Despite the fact that the Allies treated their POWs vastly better than did the Germans, Johansson's father conceived a lifelong hatred of the British, particularly the Intelligence Services, whom he never forgave for stealing the Enigma machine, thereby allowing the Allies to win the war. He passed on his hatred to his two sons, the elder of whom got himself killed in a fight with one of my Double-0 colleagues three years ago."

Bond shook his head slightly as he recalled reading the report of 006's mission, then continued, "It seems that Johansson the younger swore bloody revenge for his brother's death, and that of his father – apparently the shock of the former's 'brutal murder' killed the latter." Leiter scoffed, and Bond acknowledged his reaction with an ironic smile.

"In the eyes of Quantum, Hans Johansson's hatred of intelligence types, combined with his explosives expertise, made him the perfect choice to assist our four terrorist boys, and his was the brain behind the device which Mallory prematurely triggered. It now seems likely that Mallory _was_ the intended victim all along, but if the bomb had gone off outside the Smith Square Conference Centre, as appears to have been the plan, then the attention of the British Security and Intelligence Services would have been misdirected somewhere else – though no one's quite sure where, yet – leaving Quantum free to continue with their nefarious plotting."

"What about Kunz?" asked Leiter.

"She's proving a little more elusive," Bond replied. "We think she became White's number 2 after Dominic Greene was deposed when I foiled his Bolivian water plot and got General Medrano killed. We do know she's an orphan, and inherited a fortune from her billionaire father when her parents were killed in a car crash when she was nine. Very highly sexed, apparently, and likes men with power to dominate her, but also likes to dominate men who are weaker than her."

"Complex woman."

Bond grunted, then resumed, "She's had her Manhattan apartment for four years, but she also has a place in Beverly Hills, and one in the Florida Keys. She goes skiing in the Alps every year over the Christmas and New Year period, travels regularly to Europe, and speaks three languages besides English."

"Brains as well as beauty." Leiter cast a sideways glance at Bond. "She sounds more like your type than mine, James."

Bond scowled at him, then pocketed his phone as Leiter pulled into the motel car park. "Let's get ourselves registered, then we can go and check out the rendezvous before dinner."

Leiter nodded, and they grabbed their gear, then made their way inside. Registering didn't take long, and they checked what time the restaurant would be open in case they wanted to eat in, then they went up to their rooms.

007-007-007

Twenty minutes later they were back in the car and heading south-east towards the Dodson industrial area where Johansson was due to meet White at eight o'clock. They had ninety minutes to spare before that meeting took place, which should afford them time to get themselves into a position where they could see without being seen. Leiter had brought a laser microphone and sound recorder with him, so that if they couldn't find a close enough hiding place, they should still be able to listen in on White's conversation. They also had a tiny tracking bug to plant on Kunz's car, if the opportunity arose, since it would be safer than trying to tail them back to wherever they were staying. 

It was Bond's intention to track White back to his base, then capture him, or failing that, kill him, and much as he'd like to kill the bastard, he knew White would be more valuable to SIS alive than dead.

Leiter found a parking spot at a convenient distance from the rendezvous, then he and Bond split up to scout the area before meeting back at their starting point. 

"I reckon that's our best spot for a hiding place while we listen in," Leiter said, pointing to an office building adjacent to the single story building which bore the company name sign that indicated it was White's meeting place.

"Agreed. Do you want to go in and set up, and I'll keep a lookout on the approach road? Provided Kunz doesn't stay with her car, I can plant the tracking bug on it, then join you."

"Sure." Leiter crossed the square, his audio equipment in his briefcase, and made his way round to the fire exit door where he could let himself in. Bond then retraced his steps to the approach road and settled down in a secure spot to keep watch for Kunz's red Porsche.

As he observed the road, he wondered how Olivia was getting on; checking his watch, he realised that she was probably in bed by now, since it was after midnight in London, and he tried not to think about her in her pyjamas, her hair all rumpled from sleep, and her eyes all soft instead of pinning him with her usual penetrating gaze.

Before he could get totally lost in the images filling his mind's eye, a red Porsche appeared in the distance, and his focus snapped back to the task in hand. Within a few minutes, Kunz had pulled up at the edge of the sidewalk, and White climbed from the back seat, spoke briefly to the woman through the open front passenger window, then strolled towards the passage that would lead him through to rendezvous. Bond felt a surge of frustration as he realised that Kunz was remaining with her car. She climbed out, stretched lithely like a cat, then leaned against the hood of the car, pulled a box of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of her jacket and lit up.

A few minutes later a white car pulled up behind the Porsche and a man of about forty-five got out. He spoke a few words to Kunz, then followed in White's wake. Johansson was a wiry man, about five foot seven, and he looked pale, as if he didn't often see the daylight. Bond watched him out of sight, and realised that he wouldn't be able to join Leiter without Kunz seeing him – and he didn't want to risk that. He scowled, then prepared to wait, hoping that White's meeting wouldn't last too long.

007-007-007

It was an hour later before White came strolling back through and Bond had cramp in his left foot that was driving him crazy since he could do nothing to relieve it. He was glad to see that Kunz and White wasted no time in departing, and Bond immediately flopped down onto his back on the grass and wriggled his toes to ease the cramp. Five minutes later Johansson climbed into his car and drove off, and Bond got to his feet as soon as the car was at the far end of the street, then jogged through to the office building where Leiter had gone to ground. 

He met his friend coming out of the building, and one look at Leiter's face told him that he hadn't learned anything useful from his surveillance.

"What's up?" Bond asked as they headed back to where Leiter had left the car.

"White must have set up some kind of jamming device in the office – I couldn't hear anything useful at all." He scowled balefully at the building, then turned to Bond. "And I'm guessing you didn't get a chance to tag the Porsche?"

"None whatsoever," he replied. "Fuck! Do you think your buddy Phil could help us out?"

"I can ask," Leiter said, as he stowed his equipment in the trunk. "Let's go grab a steak and a beer to console ourselves."

"Let's."

They climbed into the car and headed back to the motel in a mood of frustration.


	3. Chapter 3

Day Five

Olivia woke earlier than usual to the sound of torrential rain and a howling wind; she groaned, then pulled the covers up over her in an attempt to shut out the noise of the weather. She thought longingly of home: of sitting on her terrace in the sunshine with a drink in her hand, and a book to read, or a crossword to complete, and the prospect of a swim in the warm sea before lunch. She groaned again as she realised that picturing such things was actually not going to help her to face the day ahead. She curled up and tried to think of something else, and an image of James came to mind unbidden: he was well-wrapped against the cold weather in a thick sweater, a long wool coat, and even a scarf, together with boots and jeans. He looked ruggedly handsome and much fitter than when he'd got back from his three months of 'death', and she felt her heart lift, just as she had when she'd seen him in person at the time. 

She wondered if there was any way the two of them could forge a closer friendship when James was based here in London and she would be returning to Kingston. Then she wondered if he would want to try – she had felt there was something more between them, both when they were in Scotland, and before he'd left in search of Mallory's killers, but maybe she was just fooling herself. Though there had been that kiss on the cheek – he'd never done that before. She sighed, frustrated that she kept thinking about these things – she wanted to push them to the back of her mind and not consider them again until James returned, but she couldn't seem to do that unless she was actually busy working (and even then he had a tendency to sneak into the back of her brain).

She closed her eyes and made herself take a deep breath in, then let it out on a long exhale, then repeated it as she relaxed her muscles; hopefully she could relax herself into going back to sleep again.

007-007-007

Bond woke abruptly from sleep to the knowledge that someone else was in his room with him. He lay very still, listening intently, and caught the rustle of fabric, as if someone were undressing, and he frowned, wondering who it could be.

The person carefully drew his bed covers down, and he wondered if whoever it was seriously believed that they could take an agent of the Secret Intelligence Service by surprise. He sensed the person moving towards the head of the bed, and decided that enough was enough. As they leaned over, he sprang up from the bed, his hands going straight for the intruder's throat, and heard a noise of dismay before the person crashed backwards.

It took him a moment to realise that his intruder was a woman, and that she was completely naked beneath him. Pinning her down with his knees, he reached out and flicked on the bedside light to find the intruder was Patricia Kunz.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't choke the life out of you right now," Bond hissed furiously.

She clawed at his left hand, which was still tightly wrapped around her throat, and he eased his grip enough that she could get some air and speak, although he wasn't so foolish as to allow her to wriggle out from under him.

"If you kill me, you won't find out why I'm here," she answered, her voice sounding hoarse.

"You're naked in my room," he said coldly, "it doesn't take a genius to work it out. I won't ask how White knew I was here, he claims to have people everywhere, after all, but I do wonder what possible good he thought it would do for you to seduce me."

"He doesn't know I'm here." Bond shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, James, I'm not armed. Check my clothes – after all, you can see I don't have any weapons on me right now. And I don't think you can convince me you're entirely disinterested." She reached towards his cock which, despite him, was starting to respond to the fact that he was dressed only in underpants and astride a nubile naked woman. He slapped her hand away, and she winced at the force of the blow. 

"Keep your hands to yourself," he said harshly, "or I'll tie you up, and not in a fun way." She pouted and he glared, tightening his grip on her throat once more. "If White didn't send you here to seduce and then kill me, why are you here?" He again loosened his hold a little to allow her to answer.

"I was hoping to persuade you to let me help you to take White down." She was giving him a beseeching look now, and he noted dispassionately that she was going to have some quite nasty bruises on her neck.

"And why would you want to do that?" demanded Bond. "With all your money and power, what can you possibly want that you can't get through being a member of Quantum?"

"Freedom," Kunz answered. "White's had control of me for almost all of my adult life, and I realised recently that I want more out of life than he's prepared to allow me to have."

Bond shook his head. "When I take him down – or kill him – you'll be free to do whatever you choose. That's assuming you don't get in my way, because if you do, I won't hesitate to kill you too. But I don't need your help to stop White – he's come off badly from both our previous encounters – he'll come off even worse this time."

"But – " she began, sounding desperate now.

"But nothing." Bond swiftly got to his feet, then reached out and picked up the slinky red dress she'd left on the floor. "Get dressed and get out, and stay out of my way because next time I won't stop to ask questions, I'll just dispose of you."

Her face burned with humiliation and he saw hate in her eyes as she hastily dressed herself. He watched her intently, his own expression cold, and it was only after she'd slammed out of the room that he allowed himself to breathe freely again.

"James?" Leiter's voice sounded worriedly from the other side of the door.

"Come in, Felix," Bond said wearily, sitting down on the bed. He was glad that his incipient arousal had subsided again, and annoyed with his body for reacting that way, even though he knew it was partly in response to the dream he'd been having of Olivia before Kunz broke into his room.

"Everything all right?" Leiter asked as he came in, his gun in his hand.

Bond nodded. "I've just had a visit from the delightful Ms Kunz," his said, his tone heavily ironic.

"Shit! Why didn't you give me a shout?"

"Really, Felix, do you think I'm incapable of handling one woman?"

Leiter smirked. "No, I guess you're not. What did she want?"

"To help me take down White."

His friend gaped. "Seriously?"

"So she claimed. Mind you, she got naked before she made the proposal." He glanced across at his friend, and said, "Close your mouth, Felix, before you start catching flies."

Leiter's dropped jaw snapped back into place, before he asked, "What did you say?"

Bond raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"Well, judging by the way she slammed out of here, assuming that was her?" He lifted an eyebrow of his own, and Bond nodded agreement. "I'm guessing you turned down her very kind offer."

"I did. I also told her to stay out of my way, or I wouldn't hesitate to take her down too."

"Do you think she really expected you to say yes?"

"I think she's too used to getting her own way with men to have even considered the possibility that I wouldn't agree – or allow her to seduce me."

Leiter shook his head wonderingly. "You all right?"

Bond frowned. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

The American shrugged. "No reason, I guess."

"Let's get some sleep for what's left of the night," Bond said, and Leiter nodded, said goodnight, then let himself back out of the room.

Bond pulled on the pyjama trousers he hadn't bothered with earlier, then switched out his light and settled back down to sleep. It was ironic, he thought, that he hadn't let Kunz even try to seduce him when he had such a reputation as a ladies' man, but the truth was that he'd begun to realise that there was only woman in the world whom he wanted now. He just had no idea whether he could ever persuade Olivia Mansfield that she was the only woman for him. 

007-007-007

When Bond and Leiter met for breakfast a few hours after Kunz's attempt to seduce Bond, there was no mention made of Bond's visitor of the early hours. Instead, he asked Leiter if his buddy Phil had managed to trace Kunz's Porsche.

"He did. She and White have taken a short-let apartment in Overland Park. Phil tagged her Porsche as arriving there two days ago."

"I assume it's a residential area?" Leiter nodded. "Then we need to find some way of drawing them away," Bond said. "I don't want to risk civilians getting caught in the crossfire."

"What do you suggest?"

"I think it might be a good idea to take a drive around the city this morning, to get a better feeling for the place since we've neither of us been here before, then we'll pick a suitable spot for an ambush, and lure White and Kunz here." He ate a few more mouthfuls before asking, "Did Phil say how long White's taken the apartment for?"

"Four days initially, with the option to extend their stay if they choose. According to Phil, the file for White has a note on it from the realtor saying White's in town looking at investment opportunities."

Bond nodded. "Your buddy, Phil – how much do you trust him?"

Leiter didn't look offended at the question, which was a relief to Bond; while he hadn't hesitated to make sure Leiter was completely up to speed on everything SIS knew of Quantum and its workings, including the fact that M's former bodyguard, Craig Mitchell, had been a member, it would have been easy enough for Leiter to believe that no Quantum spy could penetrate the CIA. Fortunately, Leiter was a level-headed man who knew just as well as Bond that no intelligence organisation was immune to such things, no matter how hard you tried.

"I've known Phil since I joined up," Leiter said. "We worked together in the field for several years until he took a bullet in the kneecap which left him in a wheelchair. Past five years he's been working in surveillance department at HQ. I'd say I trust him a fair bit. Why?"

"Because White didn't just know I was in town, he knew where I was, or Kunz wouldn't have been able to find me last night. I told my people we'd be coming to Kansas City, but no one knew where we were staying – so White must have got that information from somewhere. Of course, he could easily have someone in place to monitor airlines and the like for my name, without it necessarily being one of your people – hackers can get everywhere, after all."

"True. Do you think Kunz will tell White that she came to you?"

"Not if she was genuine about wanting to get out of Quantum. Of course, if he sent her, he'd know anyway."

"And how genuine do you think she was?"

Bond shrugged as he downed the last of his coffee. "I honestly don't know. All I know for sure is that she was serious about fucking me."

"Weren't you tempted to do it anyway?" Leiter asked. "After all, we both know sex is a good way to try to get the information you want from people."

"No, I wasn't tempted."

"This woman you're interested in must be pretty special then, James." Leiter's voice was soft and when Bond looked at him, he saw sympathy in the other man's eyes.

"She is. Very." He stood up. "Let's go reconnoitre."

Leiter nodded, and got to his feet also. He gave Bond a slap on the shoulder as he moved past him and led the way out to the car park.

007-007-007 

Bond eventually found a spot on the edge of the river which he felt would probably do for staging the confrontation with White since it looked pretty derelict and run-down. All he had to do now was work out how to get White there for the show down. 

He and Leiter decided to go and get some lunch first; they headed back to the motel as Leiter wanted to check his emails and he'd left his laptop there. This reminded Bond to check his own emails on his phone, where he found a message from Bill Tanner telling him that the team sent to Egypt after the other three members of the terrorist cell had captured them, and they were being flown back to Britain for interrogation. He relayed the news to Leiter, then left him checking his own emails while he went to have a pre-prandial drink in the hotel bar. He was tempted to ring Olivia to congratulate her on the news, but he resisted the temptation – she'd probably scold him for wasting her time, and he had to admit she'd have a point as he didn't doubt that Mallory's sudden death meant she had a lot of work to do.

Still, with any luck, he'd be home tomorrow, and then he was going to sit down and talk to her properly.

Leiter came in and they headed into the restaurant to get something to eat, and to discuss just how they could lure White to their ambush spot. Bond was in favour of contacting Kunz and using her as bait, and he and Leiter were deep in a discussion of how to achieve this, when Bond's phone vibrated in his pocket.

He fished it out and was surprised to see a text message from an American cell phone number. "You didn't give my number to your buddy, Phil, did you?" he asked Leiter, who shook his head. Bond tapped the 'new message' icon, and read the text – then passed the phone to Leiter to read it.

"Dear Mr Bond, if you wish to learn something to your advantage, be at the old warehouse by the river at 2.30pm. Mr White." Leiter passed the phone back. "How the hell did he know we were there?"

Bond shook his head. "He must have had someone tailing us. It can't have been Kunz, we wouldn't have missed that red Porsche."

"Unless she used a different car."

"I suppose so."

"Are you going to go?" Leiter asked, his tone neutral.

"Do you think I shouldn't?"

"I think you should be very careful," Leiter said. "I know you want to capture him, James, but you know, even better than I do, how ruthless he is."

"So we'll get there early," Bond said, "then he can't get the jump on us."

"Very well."

They finished their lunch, then headed upstairs to grab their weapons and anything else they thought they might need, before they climbed into the rental car and set off for the rendezvous.

007-007-007

Leiter insisted on parking a block or so away from the rendezvous point, judging that it would be safer as there was no knowing who White would have with him, but they knew that Johansson was an explosives expert. They decided to split up to enter the warehouse, just in case White had also arrived earlier than the appointed time. They entered what had obviously once been the goods-in yard, where a rusted and abandoned crane stood against the far wall; Leiter took the left hand side of the area, while Bond took the right, and they were approaching the point where the yard narrowed into a long passage that led out into a car park at the rear when they spotted White at the far end of the passage. Kunz was standing in front of him, her body pulled tight against his, and a gun pressed to her temple.

The two agents stopped in their tracks. "What do you want, White?" called Bond.

"To let you know that your little scheme won't work, Mr Bond. I know you thought you could seduce Ms Kunz into betraying me, but you were wrong. Whatever little scheme you cooked up with her – it won't wash."

Bond shook his head. "There is no scheme. You've got it wrong – she tried to seduce me, tried to tell me that she wanted to get out of Quantum. I didn't believe her."

"How very ungallant of you, Mr Bond," White sneered. "Letting a lady take the blame for your own stupidity."

"Let her go, White. You know this is really just between you and me. I bet you're still sore because I shot you, captured you, and took you to an interrogation trussed up in the boot of my car."

White snarled, his face contorted with rage, then he thrust Kunz away from himself, and turned on his heel to run. Kunz took one look at Bond racing towards her, screamed, then turned tail and hared off after White. Bond shot after them both, hurtling down the passage and out into the space beyond it.

As Bond raced after White and Kunz, Leiter was still some distance behind them, having had further to run; suddenly there was a terrific boom, and the wall past which Bond was running exploded outwards, large pieces of concrete slamming into him and propelling him across the open space to smash him against the opposite wall. 

White whirled around and Leiter saw him raise his gun, but he wasn't quick enough, and Leiter had two shots off before White had fired more than one, which missed Leiter. The other man went down, and Leiter hurried over to where Bond lay battered against the wall; his heart seemed to be in his mouth as he bent down over his friend and felt for a pulse. He let out his breath in a whoosh as he found that Bond was still alive, then he yanked out his phone and dialled 911. He didn't want to leave Bond on his own, but Kunz was still on the loose, so he muttered an apology that the unconscious man couldn't hear, then raced off in the direction which the woman had taken. 

Kunz was just scrambling into her car as Leiter reached the edge of the car park, and he fired after her, but she tore off so fast that he missed her Porsche. Cursing, he raced across to where he'd left the rental car and leapt in, then shot off in pursuit of Kunz. As he drove, he hit the speed dial on his phone and put in a call to the local CIA contact, explaining the situation rapidly, but succinctly, and begging Ed to get to the scene as fast as he could, and to go with Bond to the hospital. Ed agreed, to his immense relief, and Leiter tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, then sat back and put his foot down as Kunz led him at speed along the highway. She was driving erratically, he noticed, and he wondered just how far she would get before she attracted the attention of the traffic cops. 

That question was answered only moments later when a patrol car came screeching out of a side road, lights flashing and siren blaring. It seemed to Leiter that what happened next was somehow inevitable: Kunz clearly panicked at the appearance of the traffic cops, and she shot forwards as she floored the accelerator – at the same time, however, a reversing truck swung fully out into the road – and the Porsche slammed into its rear as Kunz was clearly going too fast to swerve. Leiter had already begun to slow down when the traffic cops appeared, and he slowed further, wincing at the screeching and tearing of metal as the car was totalled. 

007-007-007

An hour had passed since the explosion that had concussed Bond, when Leiter finally made it to the hospital to see his friend. He found Bond in a private room, and was relieved to see he was conscious, if a little dazed still. 

"Did you get White?"

Leiter nodded. "Took him down with two shots after you went down. Kunz is dead also – she made a run for it and I chased her, then the traffic cops showed up, and she must've panicked because she floored it, and smashed into the back of a lorry that had reversed out of a driveway."

"Christ."

"How are you doing?"

Bond groaned quietly. "Multiple contusions, especially to my chest and legs, and a large lump on the back of my head – I have a concussion and won't be allowed out of here for a couple of days. They won't let me make or receive any phone calls, so can you ring Bill Tanner in London and let him know what's happened. I – "

"James, it's okay. I'll handle it – you just concentrate on getting yourself back on your feet. But not too fast. For once in your life, listen to the medics and don't try to rush your recovery."

"Yes, mother."

Leiter snorted. "Where can I find the number for Bill Tanner?"

"He's on my frequent contacts list on my phone," Bond answered, gesturing at his bedside cupboard.

"All right. I'll give him a call now, and let him know the situation."

"Tell him I'll be home day after tomorrow."

"If the medics are satisfied you can fly," Leiter said, his tone stern, and Bond glowered, then sighed.

"Yes, if the medics are satisfied it's okay for me to fly. You're turning into an old woman, Felix Leiter."

"Just looking after your best interests, buddy. I know you want to go home, but you have to get fit first – there's no point rushing it and then making matters worse. You were bloody lucky this afternoon – you could've wound up dead, not just in hospital with bruises and a concussion."

"All right, all right." Bond waved a feeble hand, so Leiter opened his bedside cupboard and took out his phone.

"I'll be back shortly."

"All right. And Felix?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Leiter nodded, then let himself out of the room and went to find somewhere quiet and private to make the call. He would downplay Bond's concussion only a little bit – he didn't want anyone to panic, but at the same time, he wanted them to appreciate that Bond might not be back home immediately.

007-007-007

Olivia was just getting ready to leave the office when Bill Tanner knocked on her door and stuck his head inside.

"I've just had Bond's CIA friend, Felix Leiter, on the phone," Tanner said, coming in properly, and Olivia felt as if her heart had stopped; she grabbed the back of her chair tightly before she nodded at him to continue. "Bond's in hospital: he's a bit banged up, but he's going to be okay. They want to keep an eye on him for forty-eight hours before they let him go, but once they do, he'll be on the first flight available."

"And White?" Olivia asked.

"Dead. Mr Leiter shot him, and White's accomplice, Kunz, is also dead – she crashed into the back of a lorry, apparently."

"I see."

"He's going to be all right, ma'am," Tanner said, in what she recognised was a reassuring tone. "Mr Leiter was very definite about that – apparently he was running past a wall that had been primed with an explosive device, and when it went off, he was thrown some distance and hit by some of the flying debris. He's not in any danger."

"In other words, I needn't panic and go haring off to Kansas – is that what you're saying, Mr Tanner?"

Tanner quirked his lips into a wry smile. "I suppose I am, ma'am."

"Very well. I shall go home, instead, and trust that my agent will soon be back safely."

"Yes ma'am. Goodnight." He gave her a respectful nod, then went out, and she knew she hadn't imagined the relief in his voice when she had promised to go back to James' flat. She gathered up her things, then stepped out of her office to where Eve was waiting, as usual, and nodded at the younger woman to lead the way. She was disappointed that White was dead rather than in custody, but the most important thing was that James was all right.

007-007-007

Day Six

The following day passed mercifully quickly for Bond since he spent most of it asleep as a result of his concussion – though he did get a bit irritated with the nurses who kept waking him up to make sure he hadn't lapsed into unconsciousness again.

He didn't see anything of Leiter until the evening when his friend turned up to bring him up to speed on the case.

"We rounded up Johansson," Leiter told him, "and we've sweated him a bit, but my bosses have agreed with your Mr Tanner that your people should have custody of him in order to interrogate him about his part in the plot against Mallory."

Leiter paused to swallow a mouthful of the coffee he'd brought with him before resuming, "In return, your Mr Tanner has promised to share with us any data pertinent to security in the US from that upload you made from Kunz's computer. In the meantime, my buddy is busy at Kunz's apartment going through her computer, and in particular, her emails. We're hoping to find some indication of where White's base of operations is located because then we can raid _his_ computer, and hopefully find the rest of Quantum."

"What makes you think some subordinate hasn't already got to it and wiped the hard drive before disassembling it?" Bond asked curiously.

Leiter winced. "We have, of course, considered that possibility, but we're trying to err on the side of optimism until we have hard evidence that points the other way."

Bond grunted, but didn't argue the point. "Sounds like you and Bill Tanner have been busy."

"We have." He peered at his friend. "You okay? You don't look too happy."

"I want to get out of here," Bond said, not bothering to hide his irritation. "But they won't let me go before mid-morning tomorrow. And they're talking about me hiring a nurse to go with me."

Leiter chuckled. "The famous James Bond, well-known ladies' man, is objecting to taking a pretty nurse with him on a long flight? Are you _sure_ that blow to the head didn't affect your brain, James?"

Bond scowled. "There's only one woman who interests me," he said quietly.

Leiter patted his arm as it lay atop the covers. "Never mind, my friend, they'll let you go tomorrow, and then you'll be able to see this mystery woman of yours." He got to his feet. "I must go – I've got a ton of paperwork to deal with. I'll drive you to the airport tomorrow, so give me a call when they're ready to let you go."

"Thanks, Felix."

"Get some more sleep," Leiter said. "Maybe you'll feel less cranky in the morning."

Bond rolled his eyes, then waved a dismissal at his friend. "Go away, Felix." His friend left, and Bond settled back down in his bed to sleep. Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

007-007-007

For Olivia, the day after White's death and James' injury seemed interminably long: she had additional paperwork to do as a result of the three terrorists arriving back in Britain for interrogation; then there were the negotiations with the Americans regarding Johansson's extradition, and sorting out the reciprocal part of the deal; plus she had a meeting with the Prime Minister as he wished to discuss with her the three candidates who were lined up for the job of M. Her only consolation was that with everything she had to do, she was kept too busy to brood too much on James' condition.

Once she got home to his flat, however, it was a different matter, and she eventually gave in to the desire to make contact by sending him an email.

_Dear James,_

_I do hope you're not malingering in order to spend your time chatting up all the pretty nurses in that American hospital._

_Seriously, though, I'm glad that you aren't too badly hurt – your friend Mr Leiter has assured Mr Tanner that you are 'tough as nails', and while I'm not entirely sure that's true any more, I trust that you didn't bribe him into lying to us for you. Try not to cause any more trouble before your return to London._

_Olivia_

She sent it off, feeling a little exposed, even though intellectually she knew that it was a fairly innocuous message.

She then set about tidying up the flat, so that it would be more presentable for James when he arrived the next day, as he hoped to do. After that she made herself sit down and eat while watching, or rather half-watching because her attention kept wandering, a nature documentary on the television. 

She checked her emails before going to bed, and found a terse response from James: _What pretty nurses?_ , which made her snort. She emailed back, _Mr Leiter didn't say the blow to your head had blinded you._ A few moments later a reply zipped back, _I haven't gone blind, I've grown more discriminating. Go to bed, Olivia._

"Cheeky bugger," she muttered, shutting down the computer, then heading into the bathroom to shower and clean her teeth before bed. Nevertheless, she was smiling fondly as she thought of James, and while she wondered at his reference to growing more discriminating, she felt reassured that the concussion had not had any lasting effect on him.


	4. Chapter 4

Day Seven

Bond ought to have gone straight to the office once he stepped off the plane that had brought him back from America, but he desperately wanted a change of clothes. Of course, Olivia already knew that he'd been badly injured, but that was no reason to turn up in a torn and blood-stained suit, and he considered that his shirt was only fit for the ragbag, so he was determined to change before he went in to the office.

He let himself into his flat, pleased that he'd thought to arrange with Bill Tanner to have a new keycard ready and waiting for him once he arrived at Northolt. He'd already loosened his tie and was half out of his jacket as he entered his room and realised that it was not exactly as he'd left it six days earlier. It didn't take a genius to work out that Olivia had been sleeping there, and he wondered what had led to the change.

He shook his head, deciding to worry about it later, and concentrated on stripping off the rest of his clothes before he showered and changed. There was no way to hide the multiple bruises across his chest and on his legs, but his hair, though short, did hide the lump on the back of his head. As he dressed afterwards, carefully since the bruises were stiff despite the hot water of his shower, he reflected that he had been incredibly lucky to get off as lightly as he had given the size of the explosion Mr White's tame explosives man had caused.

He acknowledged, too, the fact that he might have got away with fewer bruises, and without the concussion, if his reactions had been faster. Loathe as he was to admit it, age was starting to slow him down, and he knew that next time he might be a lot less lucky. The thought that had intruded several times while he lay in the hospital bed, recurred: maybe it was time for him to retire, while he still could.

He could, of course, retire from active duty and take up training the new recruits instead. But he wasn't sure that wouldn't actually be worse than simply making a clean break, and leaving the Service altogether. It was something to discuss with Olivia, perhaps; after all, she had retired six months ago, and had been thriving in her Jamaican paradise, despite a far longer career with SIS than his own.

007-007-007

Olivia looked up as James Bond came into her office, and quirked an eyebrow. "And just what took you so long, 007? I know your flight got in an hour ago, and it should only have taken you twenty minutes to get here by taxi." She saw the corners of his mouth lift slightly and scowled. "Well?"

"You like me to look presentable, ma'am, so I got changed before I came to see you."

Something in his eyes told her that yes, he had been home to his flat and that he knew she'd been sleeping in his bed, and she fought to keep a blush from colouring her cheeks. "Sit down, 007."

He obeyed her and she wondered if she should say something to excuse herself, but she couldn't bear to bring it up here in the office. Instead she gave him an expectant look, and his mouth quirked a little further into a smile, as if he knew just what she'd been thinking, then he began his verbal report of his mission.

007-007-007

"You did a good job, 007. Thank you." 

Bond could hear the sincerity in Olivia's voice as she thanked him at the conclusion of his report, and he felt absurdly buoyed up. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to bring White back, ma'am."

"It matters more to me that you came back safely, well, relatively speaking." 

She eyed him over her desk and he wondered if she could tell how much it was costing him not to slouch: the jetlag was starting to catch up with him now, not to mention the fact that he was developing a headache.

"Take yourself down to Medical so they can give you a quick once-over, just to confirm the American medics' reports, then go home and get some rest. You can worry about your written report tomorrow. I'll see you this evening."

"Thank you, ma'am." For once he didn't bother to argue about visiting Medical, and he sensed her surprise, but she didn't comment further. He got to his feet. "What time will you be back this evening?" 

"I don't know exactly – around seven o'clock, I think."

He nodded, then made his way out, and headed straight for the lift. Perhaps someone down in Medical could give him something for the headache, he thought, gingerly touching the lump on the back of his head. Still, it wasn't as if the US medics hadn't warned him he'd probably suffer from headaches, not to mention dizziness and blurred vision also. He hadn't told Olivia about the severe concussion, but he didn't doubt Medical would notify her as soon as they'd finished seeing him – which meant he could probably expect a bollocking when she got back this evening. For some reason, he smiled fondly at the thought.

007-007-007

When Olivia got back to Bond's flat that evening she felt rather shy, knowing they would have to discuss the fact that she'd been sleeping in his room in his absence. She let herself in and made her way to the kitchen with the take-away she'd brought for them to share. She had just finished unpacking the carrier bag of cartons when a noise from the doorway made her look up to see James, looking sleep-rumpled, standing there. He was barefoot, and wearing pyjama trousers, but no top, and she made herself look away because otherwise she knew she'd start scolding him: the bruising on his chest was spectacularly bad, and something seemed to clench in her own chest at the sight.

He walked across to where she stood, folding the plastic bag up neatly, and she started when he put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to be all right, Olivia," he said softly, turning her around.

"This time," she said, wishing her voice didn't sound so shaky.

"Yes, this time." He sighed, then slipped his arms down around her and gently drew her closer. She was astonished by the gesture, but she didn't try to pull away; instead she lifted her arms and held him in return. "I want to talk to you about that, actually," he said. "But let's sit in the other room, and we can talk and eat at the same time."

She nodded, and he assembled the take-away containers on a tray, while she grabbed napkins, cutlery, and wine glasses. He flashed a smile at her as he set a bottle of wine on the tray, and she wondered why, until she saw the label and realised it was champagne.

They decamped to the sitting room, and James set the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, then they started opening the containers, passing things back and forth as they began to eat.

"First things first," James said, his tone very serious. Olivia raised her eyebrows, since her mouth was full of noodles. "You've been sleeping in my bed while I've been away. I don't mind," he added quickly, and she wondered what he'd seen in her expression to add that rider. "But I am curious as to why."

She chewed, swallowed, then took a sip of champagne as she wondered how much to tell him. Then she realised there was no reason not to be completely honest with him, not any more.

"I had a bad nightmare the first night you were gone, and I ended up sleepwalking into your room. I woke up in your bed the following morning, and I decided to continue sleeping there." She felt a blush heating her cheeks, but she didn't look away from his intent gaze. "I felt safer, somehow, and – this will sound foolish, I suppose – but I felt closer to you, too."

He shifted nearer to her and put his right arm around her shoulders. "It doesn't sound foolish, Olivia." His voice was soft. "I am glad that you felt safe there." He kissed her left temple, and she felt her body tingle in response, even though it was only a brief brush of his lips on her skin.

He removed his arm so he could go on eating, and she tried not to miss the weight of it as she picked up her glass for another mouthful of champagne.

"The second thing I want to talk to you about is work."

"Go on." 

"I'm seriously considering resigning from the Service."

She tried not to gape at him, but it wasn't easy. "Well, you do surprise me."

He chuckled. "I thought I might. I realised, after White's explosion, that I'm slowing down as I get older, and in my job, being slow is not a good thing, as I'm sure you recall." She nodded, and he continued, "I could, of course, take a desk job, or perhaps train the new recruits, but – " He paused, and she noticed that he was blushing now. "I miss you an awful lot, Olivia, and I know full well you'll be leaving as soon as Mallory's successor's been appointed."

"She has been," Olivia said quietly. "I heard before I left the office this afternoon."

"Another woman?" She nodded. "I am glad to hear that, and I wish her luck in the job." He cleared his throat before resuming. "I want to retire while I can – too many Double-0s don't get that chance, as you know – and I was thinking of retiring to Kingston, if you think you could bear to have me for a neighbour."

She chuckled weakly. "I think I might manage that," she said, "so long as you promise to behave."

He smirked. "I notice you don't say I have to behave well," he observed.

"Cheeky boy." She swatted at his arm, and he immediately grabbed her wrist, then he slid his arms around her and she felt a stir of desire. 

"Olivia?"

"Yes James?"

"Will you sleep in my room again tonight, please?"

She pulled back a little to look at his face, and saw he was sincere. "With you?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes please."

"Then yes, I will."

"Thank you." He kissed her gently and she felt a coil of tension she'd hadn't been aware of begin to unwind, even as another kind of tension built inside her.

Eventually he pulled away so they could catch their breath, and he said, "Dinner's getting cold." She laughed quietly, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead, then said, "We should finish eating."

"Yes. You need to keep your strength up."

"Oh I do, do I?" He gave her a stern look, but that just made her start giggling, and he said, "I can see you're going to be a very bad influence on me, Olivia Mansfield."

She snorted. "Look who's talking, James Bond. You're no innocent."

His expression sobered. "Do you mind?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Why would I mind? After all, I've been married, and had lovers before that. Don't forget I was also a Double-0 – and using sex is a part of any Double-0's repertoire."

He gave her a sweet smile that made her want to start kissing him again, but she forced herself to turn her attention back to their rapidly-cooling food, instead.

007-007-007

An hour later they made ready for bed. Bond was slightly surprised when Olivia took her pyjamas with her into the bathroom to have her shower, but he refrained from laughing at her as he realised that she might be feeling a little shy, particularly given the disparity in their ages. Instead he turned on the bedside light, leaving the other one off, and climbed into bed to wait for her to join him.

He didn't have too long to wait before she appeared in the doorway; she seemed to hesitate for a moment before crossing the threshold and approaching the bed, and he gave her a gentle smile. "Olivia, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do. If all you want is to cuddle and kiss, then we'll do that." He patted the bed beside him, and she climbed in, allowing him to draw her body close to his. "You know, I've wanted this since Skyfall."

"Me too." 

Her voice was barely above a whisper and he could feel she was lightly trembling, so he bent his head and kissed her, keeping the pressure gentle, but doing his best to put his heart into his kisses. Eventually he felt her tremors cease, and he dared to slide a hand down her back and cup her bottom, pressing her lower body closer. While he didn't intend to force her into anything, he did want her to understand just how much he desired her.

He heard her gasp as she registered the presence of his erection, and he couldn't help smirking just a little.

"I want you, Olivia. I want to touch and kiss every part of you, and I want to make love to you."

"Turn off the light first."

He pulled back to look down at her. "Why? You've nothing to be ashamed of. I know you're no longer as young as you once were, but that doesn't matter to me. I love every part of you, every wrinkle and line of your skin."

She blushed, and he gave her a smile. "Can I leave the light on?"

She chewed her bottom lip before answering. "Do you mind turning it off for now? I know it's foolish – "

"No, it's not." He kissed her softly, then reached over and switched out the light. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

He began kissing her face and neck, and as he did so, he unbuttoned her pyjama top; she gasped when he slid his hand inside to cup her breast, thumbing her nipple until it stood stiff and proud. He shifted so he could suck it, and used his other hand to carry out the same treatment on her other breast.

"Such beautiful breasts, Olivia," he told her. "I've longed to touch them so often." He trailed kisses down over her abdomen, then lifted himself up so he could ease her pyjama trousers down. He got her to sit up and removed the top as well, then lowered her back down onto the bed and resumed kissing her on the mouth, before laying a path of kisses down her body to her thighs. 

She moaned and her hips rolled as he parted her legs, then placed a kiss on her mound. "I'm going to taste you, now."

She groaned and he made out his name somewhere in the moan, which made him smile just a little. Then he settled himself as comfortably as he could manage, bearing in mind how rigid his cock had grown, and lowering his head, he began to lick and kiss up and down the length of her pussy lips, before finally sliding his tongue right inside her. She thrashed about on the bed, her hands alternately clutching at the bedding and his head, although his hair wasn't really long enough to give her a firm handhold, and he resolved to grow it out a little longer once he'd handed in his resignation letter.

He teased her with the tip of his index finger, as he nibbled on her clit, and she yelped. He made himself not react as he wanted to, by driving his cock inside her; instead he stroked her, licked her, and kissed her until he drove her over the brink into an orgasm.

He continued to caress her through the aftershocks, then he pulled himself up alongside her again.

"All right?"

She sighed, then whispered, "Yes."

"Good." 

He encouraged her to snuggle up and she murmured, "Don't you want me to reciprocate?"

"Not right now, no. I can wait."

"Oh."

The monosyllable sounded sleepy, and he shifted so that her head was resting on his left shoulder, then he grabbed the bed covers and tugged them up over them both.

007-007-007

A Month Later

Four weeks after Olivia had arrived back in Kingston, she drove to the airport to pick up James, who had finally finished working out his notice, and cleared his flat, putting some of his things into storage, while the rest was shipped over from London.

He smiled the moment he saw her, and she immediately thought that he looked several years younger, as if leaving the Service had rejuvenated him somehow.

"Hello James."

"Olivia." To her consternation, he dropped his bags and picked her up, planting a proper 'smacker' on her mouth.

"James! Put me down this instant," she protested, though she couldn't help giggling as he swung her around in his arms.

"You look bloody gorgeous," he breathed into her ear. "All golden and luscious."

"Stop it you, silly boy," she protested, even though she was secretly flattered.

He set her down on her feet, then picked up his bags again, and gave her a wink before nodding for her to lead the way, which she did, taking him out to where a sporty little two-seater in sky-blue waited.

"Very nice. Can I drive?"

"Certainly not. I like my car in one piece, thank you very much Mr Bond."

He pouted, and she laughed, as he'd known she would, then dropped his bags into the back before climbing into the front seat. It was roomier than he'd anticipated, which was a relief.

"Everything finally settled?" she asked as she pulled away smoothly and slid into the mid-afternoon traffic.

"Every last jot and tittle." 

"Good." She flashed him a wide smile, which he returned, then put her foot down. She heard a quiet "Oh!" of surprise from him, and smirked to herself as she whisked them across town to her beachfront villa.

Half an hour later they were ensconced on the terrace, Olivia in a short sundress and James in a polo shirt and shorts, and each with a drink in their hand.

"I think this might be bliss," he said quietly, rolling his head on the back of his sun lounger to look at her.

"It is pretty blissful," she agreed, smiling at him.

He took a hefty slug of his drink, and she raised her eyebrows at him, then giggled as he put the glass down and ostentatiously adjusted himself. She had made a private bet with herself as she drove out to meet him off the plane, that he wouldn't last an hour before he wanted to make love to her, and it looked as if she was going to win her bet even sooner than she'd anticipated. She had no objections – it had been a long four weeks for both of them, and she had missed him in many ways, not least of which was in her bed. She didn't comment, however – she'd resolved that he should be the one to make the first move, not that she imagined for a moment that he'd be hesitant to do so – one thing she'd never known him to be, was tentative, not once they'd taken that first step together.

So she merely shifted herself slightly on her own sun lounger, allowing her dress to rise a little further up her thighs, then tipped her head back, her hat and sunglasses protecting her eyes from the sunlight. She began counting backwards in her head, starting at ten, and feeling confident that she wouldn't reach one before he'd abandoned all restraint.

In fact, she got no further than seven before she felt a pair of hands clasp her ankles; she opened her eyes and saw that James had removed his polo shirt. He was crouched at the end of her sun lounger, his gaze fixed firmly on her face, and his eyes seemed to burn with desire. Once he was sure he had her attention, he began to slide his hands up her bare legs until he reached her thighs, then he knelt between her spread legs and leaned forward to kiss her, softly at first, then with more passion as she eagerly kissed him back.

He rutted against her thigh, and she moaned into his mouth; it was probably just the month-long separation, and her imagination, but he seemed larger than when they'd made love in London.

"Christ, Olivia, I want you so badly." His voice was hoarse against her neck as he continued to thrust. 

"My dear boy, there's nothing to stop you having me. Do you think that I don't want you, too? Every day since I left London, I've pictured this – the two of us reunited and free from responsibility to everyone except ourselves." She turned her head, then lifted his from her neck so that she could look him in the eye. "I want you, James Bond, and if you don't hurry up and make love to me, there are going to be serious repercussions." 

He laughed quietly. "Is that right?"

"It is. So stop shilly-shallying around, and get your kit off." She deliberately used her sharpest, most commanding tone, and she felt him shudder in response.

"Yes ma'am." He pushed himself up off her, scrambling to his feet. He toed off his sandals, then yanked down his shorts, his rigid cock bobbing free. He moved back towards her, and she reached under the sun lounger to take out the bottle of lube she'd left there. He smirked as she held it out, and she said, "Don't bother with foreplay. I want you inside me."

His eyes widened, but then he gave her a wolfish grin as he took the bottle from her and uncapped it. She shifted on the sun lounger, tugging her dress up out of the way, and smirked when he saw him realise she wasn't wearing any knickers. 

"You little witch," he said, his voice soft with admiration. 

She couldn't help giggling as she reached out and grabbed his wrist to tug him closer. "You're wasting time, James," she chided, then moaned as he slid two slickened fingers inside and prepared her. She watched through half-shut eyes as he lubed his cock. He knelt back down on the lounger, and began to guide his cock inside her, moaning loudly as he filled her, and Olivia echoed him.

"Oh yes, James, that feels so good." 

He slid his arms around her, then thrust once, then again, and she cried out as a coil of pleasure began to tighten in her belly and loins. He began to move faster, and she urged him on, her legs wrapped around his, and her hands clutching at his shoulders as he fucked her in earnest.

They were both so eager and so desperate that they didn't last long that first time, but Olivia didn't mind in the slightest: James was here for good now, and they had all the time that they wanted to do this as often, and in as many ways, as they chose. 

She hadn't expected to spend her retirement with a virile younger man in her life and her bed, but she had no intention of lamenting her lot. In fact, if anything could make the years she had left to her totally perfect, then it was the presence of James at her side which would do so.

"I love you, Olivia," he whispered.

"Love you too," she answered, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead, then pulling his head forward so she could kiss him. "My darling boy."


End file.
